Why I Breathe
by Shadows of a Dream
Summary: Order 66 has been issued: Their names are Julia Star, Aaron Earthshaker, and Kherev Ra'shah. They don't know each other. They're running for their lives. His name is Darksaber - immortal, powerful, skilled in the ways of the Dark Side - and he lives to see the Jedi die. And the clone? They call him Thirty-nine. He's nameless. Faceless. But different... R&R! A Star Wars epic.
1. Prologue: The Fate of the Forgotten

There a few who can look **Death** in the eyes; fewer, still, who can do so without racking fear; still fewer, who can advance towards it with bravery. Yet, search, if you will, the eternal deserts, the vast jungles, the rivers of water, the channels of flame; journey, if you will, to the darkest depths of the criminal underworld, or the highest heights of the Republic's privileged sectors; devote yourself, if you must, to finding even one man or Jedi, one alien or beast, who, if only he could, would look **Death** in the eyes and smile with satisfaction. You will find none.

But I am not a man, or an alien, or a beast. I am Darksaber. I am hatred and jealously, fury and deceit. I am accursed, cut off my brethren, driven to the brink of madness by my insatiable craving and lust for power and vengeance. I alone am enslaved by **Death**; I know the sting of his whip, the scorching heat of his anger, the icy fire in his eyes. I know them as well as I know my own name. _Darksaber…_

Cursed, cursed be the day I heard that name! Cursed be the hour that I succumbed to this ruin, now intertwined in the fabric of fate – my grim and unalterable destiny. Oh **Death**, have you no mercy? Why must I, a twisted and depraved creature, hunt you will all of my strength, only to have you evade me again? Oh **Death**, spare those that you call your victims! Spare the rich and esteemed; spare the heroes that you seize from the field of battle. Their hearts are hard, and unwilling; but, oh **Death**, I am a willing victim! Drag me to the pit, to the soundless depths, to your hidden dwelling. Take me away from this suffering and strife.

**Death** does not answer me. He is the master, and I am the slave, doing his bidding.

Oh, if only I could journey beyond the limits of time and space, and return to that fateful day when I so foolishly surrendered my very self to **Death's** oppression. Power, he promised me; power such as no one has ever possessed. At long last, I would have vengeance on the Jedi beasts, the murderers of my father and sisters and brothers. In ignorance, the Jedi live, and in ignorance they destroyed my clan. Warriors, we were – proud and honorable fighters, who would sooner lose their lives in a fight than submit to an inferior. We knew the meaning of true strength – the strength of the Dark Side. In ignorance, the Jedi denounce the Dark Side. In ignorance, they slaughtered my innocent clan.

The path to power is narrow, it seems. That day, I vowed to follow it to the end.

My goal became my quest, my quest became my passion, and my passion became my life and my undoing. Loneliness wreaked havoc on my mind; the worst dreams tormented me; again and again, I witnessed the cold-blooded murder of my kinsmen; I awoke each morning with a recurring scream, drenched in sweat, and shaking with horror. Gradually, I learned to ignore their echoing shouts. I became callous and heartless. It was the only way to survive. Hunting for food became my only solace; a strange satisfaction would wash over me, as my prey fell lifeless before my mighty hands. I wandered the surface of my planet as an abandoned and unloved animal, not unlike the ones that I hunted, praying that someone, something, _anything_, would grant me the power to take revenge on the Jedi. These thoughts haunted me in evening and morning, as I prepared my heart for the darkness that was to conquer my soul.

Eventually, everything climaxed. In the stillness of night, under the half-faded light of a full moon, I sought shelter from the thunder and lightning of a storm. That shelter was found in a strange cave without an end – the tunnel had simply gone on, and on, and on into eternity. Alas, if I had only foreseen the strange events that would take place within its shadowed depths!

Within that cave, **Death** came to meet me. I suppose that I alone, in the vast galaxy, have been so utterly consumed by hate, that I should be capable of looking **Death** in the eyes, without fear – immediately knowing him to be my friend.

Any other creature would have been paralyzed by fear; yet, his appearance did not perturb me. His eyes were like blazing coals; his form, like thick and heavy mist; his footsteps, like the sound of a crackling furnace; his voice, like a flame tearing brutally through a wood.

He called my name. I no longer remember it. Now, I am Darksaber. That is my only name.

But on that day, he called me by my true name. Without even thinking, I knew him to be **Death**, come for me. He radiated absolute, unshakable power. I wanted that power, yet, before I could speak, **Death** bellowed: **"I know what you want. I am here to provide it. But you must pledge yourself to me."**

I went crazy, then. A thousand voices shrieked within me, voices of reason and of desire, warring uncontrollably, and at last I cried out in anguish and terror. "What are you?" Mentally, I wailed, _What creature… can control… the very minds… of the broken and destitute?_

"**I am… the Dark Side!" **

I screamed. Was this what I had become – so controlled by evil, that it sought me out in the late hours of the night, as a man would seek out his brother in his time of need?

Again, **Death** roared: **"Pledge yourself to me, and do my will!"**

My passion reared up within me, fighting for release. I cried out again, like a beast of the wild, as the voices inside of me attacked, burning out all else – my conscience, my will, my screaming…

I fell at **Death's** feet. I had dared to toy with darkness, and now darkness would toy with me.

"You… are… my… master," I hissed, trembling violently.

Death smiled sadistically, and then spoke, suddenly smooth and kind: **"Well done… my slave. You shall have… my… power. You… shall become… as I am. Rise, my servant! Rise, Darksaber, spawn of the Dark Side!"**

And then… I changed. I became… like **Death**. I am without bodily form; a mist, a shadow of my past self. My eyes and voice and footsteps are like flame. I am Darksaber. I am immortal. And I am cursed with a mission that I shall never relinquish, as long as breath remains in me.

I will kill the Jedi.

And then, perhaps, **Death **will at last kill me.


	2. Chapter I: Fallen Star

_**Chapter I: Fallen Star**_

The irony was what hurt the most. All her life, she'd been running – running headlong into the Jedi Temple as a Youngling; charging full speed ahead into her apprenticeship as a Padawan; diving without hesitation into all the trials of the Clone Wars. She fought on, despite the endless sea of droids, despite the corruption consuming freedom, despite the apparent futility that she felt, at times. Julia Star ran onward, keeping a steady pace. The finish line drew ever closer. The end of the war was growing near.

Or so she had thought.

This was so… _ironic_… so paradoxical, in a haunting, unsettling way that made her stomach twist into knots and her throat go dry. Once again, Julia Star was running. But she was running _away_. And it was ironic. Painfully ironic.

Where was she going? Julia didn't know. Just somewhere. Anywhere! _Away from here. Away from everything._ Because everything was gone, shattered, trampled. It was all gone. And she had to keep running.

The stars glittered in the black canopy of the sky, like tiny gems in the fabric of the heavens. They were so beautiful, so peaceful. Julia remembered the way she had once dreamed of joining the stars one day. _Julia Star _– that was her name. Didn't that mean she belonged with them?

Oh, if only she could be a child again – innocent and blameless, ignorant of all the politics and confusion of real life. She missed living in dreamland. Reality was far less kind. She had learned that awfully early in life; not many teenagers come to terms with their own mortality as early as she had. But that's what happens when you are hurtled into a war. You learn that life is not a dream.

Enough with her memories. She had to keep running. Her lungs burned already, but she couldn't stop.

_Living Force, give me strength._

Julia blinked back her tears, suppressing her recollections of youthful fantasies, pumping her legs faster. There was no time for musing. Yet, surely, there should have at least been time for a dignified funeral, to honor the Master who had trained her, and protected her, and _loved_ her – not as a student, but as a daughter. She had trusted Julia with her life.

If any Jedi deserved a proper burial, it was Master Zenna Merona – Twi'lek warrior, teacher, and companion. A proper burial – was that too much to ask?

Propriety, and morality, and decency were words losing meaning in this galaxy of treachery, and blood, and war. What was happening? What had the Chancellor said to the commander? It had been an order – unfamiliar, and defined by two numbers.

_Order 66._

What did it mean? Had the order been given to all of the clones, across the entire galaxy? And what reason could the Chancellor possibly have to issue such a decree at complete random? Surely, it had been a mistake. If it wasn't, then it was treason. The Senate would put an end to it. The Jedi Council would not allow the threat to persist.

_If_ the Council was still alive.

Julia shook her head, running faster, trying to clear her head. _Think positive! There's no evidence. Yet. _The Jedi would not fall so easily. The balance of the Force was not so delicate. It would take more than a few clones to destroy the Order, wouldn't it?

Well, it wasn't just a few. It was an army. And they were _everywhere_. If Julia wanted to survive this chaos, she would need to watch her back.

So strange, it felt, to flee the blaster fire of her own allies. They had been her comrades. Some – Sparky, Hotshot, Crash, Droid-bait – had been her friends. And now…

No. She wouldn't say it; she wouldn't acknowledge it; she wouldn't even think it; but deep down, she knew it, and she knewthatshe couldn't combat the realization forever. The clones were her enemies. And they _would _come after her: she could sense it. They would return, in even greater force. Once surrounded, there would be no escape for her. Julia would join her Master in the grip of death's gaping abyss. She would cease to exist. Like a snuffed-out candle, she would be blown aside. Just like that – gone. Just another casualty of war. Just another stinking Jedi, shot down by those that she once called her friends.

_Please, God, if You exist, wherever, whoever You are – a Force or Person or Something… I don't know – but God, if You can hear me, if I have to die, would You please have them kill me quick?_

Abruptly, Julia pulled herself out of her thoughts. What was she thinking, feeding her fear? Fear was not the Jedi way, and pondering the horrors of her potential fate would not help. Even as she fought her terror, it gave way to anger – anger at the clones, at the Chancellor, at the whole wide world that had suddenly turned so cold and empty and terrifying.

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

Wise words from Master Merona. Julia closed her eyes, slowed her pace, and for a moment, she stood perfectly still, eyes closed, silently repeating the adage.

_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

She opened her eyes, lengthened her stride, and kept running.


	3. Chapter II: The Earth Shakes

_**Chapter II: The Earth Shakes**_

"If we are going to secure the system," the Twi'lek insisted, "we will need to spread the troops across the entire surface. If we send one squad to the east, a second squad to the west of the river, and a third squad to the –"

"To spread our ranks thin is to risk losing them all, Rach'ta," the Zabrak corrected.

"If we _don't _spread out, then the Separatists may land troops without our knowledge," the Twi'lek corrected. He paused, considering his strategy. Tight wrinkles formed in the green skin of his forehead. "Just think – a surprise attack could prove a sufficient obstacle against securing the planet. If we lose too many clones, the droids could –"

Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice cut him off in mid-sentence.

"A third Padawan could turn the tide."

Twi'lek and Zabrak wheeled around in unison, the former gripping his lightsaber, startled by the sudden intrusion. Before them stood a young boy. He couldn't have been older than fifteen, but he stood rather tall for a youth, and held his back straight and his shoulders square. He was awfully well-built for a teenager, with a lean, but muscular frame. His outfit was midnight black, and tight-fitting – clearly designed as a less bulky alternative to the traditional Jedi robes. His eyes were hazel, but more brown than green; and his darker brown hair was thin and short, with a small braid hanging longer than the rest.

The Twi'lek was quiet until his Zabrak companion finally spoke. "You're a Padawan, too?"

The boy scrutinized the Zabrak. This one was quite intimidating. His horns were almost fully grown; either he had begun training at a late age, or he had been a Padawan for a very long time. His body was thick with muscle, and although he exuded a peaceful calm that was uncharacteristic of the Zabrak species, his orange eyes immediately made the new arrival feel on edge.

"Yes, I'm a Padawan," the boy replied. "In rank. But in skill, you might be surprised. I'm Master Dal Pace's apprentice – Aaron Earthshaker."

The Twi'lek chuckled. "Earthshaker? That's quite a name for one so young."

"I'm no younger than yourself," Aaron countered. He turned back to the Zabrak. "So, you are?"

The Zabrak didn't have time to respond.

"That's Alk Koth," the Twi'lek interjected. "And I'm Rach'ta Zian. We're Padawans, as well. We landed on Ryisyyyk about a month ago."

"We're trying to determine a plan of action," the Zabrak – Alk Koth – added in a rush. "Rach'ta has driven us to a sort of impasse," he noted with disdain.

"I have some plans of my own. Maybe I can end the stalemate," Aaron suggested.

"I'm all for it. But Rach'ta is a bit strict when it comes to strategy," Alk laughed. "All the same, we're glad to have your help."

"Enough talk," Rach'ta snapped. "If this Padawan has a plan, then he should share it." He turned to Aaron Earthshaker. "What military training do you have, kid?"

"Master Pace knows plenty about war strategies," Aaron growled. "And he taught me everything I know."

Rach'ta sighed. "Alright. What's your plan, then?"

"Well, we need to secure Ryisyyyk before the Separatists have a chance to retaliate. The terrain here is varied; the planet is huge; so you're facing a dilemma about where to put the troops. Correct?"

Alk grinned. "Exactly."

"We know all that," Rach'ta retorted. "The question is what we are going to do about it."

"I say we split the troops between the mouth of the river and the peak of the western cliffs," Aaron explained. "That way, even if the Separatists manage to land troops on the other side of the planet… they will either meet our clones in the mountains or on the riverbank. If they attempt to head through the valley – the easiest route – they will be directly between our divisions. Once they are surrounded, they'll be scrap metal. Besides, so long as we send scouts to the other hemisphere of Ryisyyyk on a regular schedule, we will know right away if droids land in the system. We don't need to cover the whole surface of the planet."

"Of course!" Alk agreed. "Rach'ta, this is ideal. And now there are three of us Jedi. That gives us the upper hand."

"But… but… do you realize how difficult it would be to land Republic rations in the mountains?" Rach'ta raged. "It's madness! The only way to obtain rations would be to have the entire squad desert the camp, trek down the mountain, gather the food, and carry it all the way back up the slope. Impossible!"

"But the tactical advantages are enormous!" Alk argued. "It would be worth the challenge."

"And I'm sure that there's somewhere up in the cliffs that's suitable for a Republic ship to land," Aaron added. "Even if there isn't, we could build a landing strip. We have the supplies. It would be a lot of work, but it could secure our hold on the system!"

He clenched his fist in the air, as if he were holding the planet in his palm.

"You are most ambitious," Rach'ta admitted. "We are fighting a war, however. We cannot take risks."

Alk turned to the Twi'lek with disbelieving eyes. "Rach'ta, don't you see that we could –"

"Enough arguing!" Rach'ta shouted. "We need time to consider this option. And it's getting late. Darkness will approach soon, and I prefer to debate while there it is light."

"Fine, then," Alk grunted. "Come on, Aaron. We'd best head to the camp."

"Get some rest, Padawan Earthshaker," Rach'ta instructed. "You will be expected to pull your weight."

Aaron nodded. "What about my plan?"

Rach'ta stared hard at the Padawan. "You've only just arrived. Get acquainted with your surroundings. We will see about your plan later."

Without another word, Rach'ta Zian turned and slowly vanished into the distance as he walked into the fading rays of the setting sun. After a moment of solemn silence, both Alk Koth and Aaron Earthshaker followed him into the diminishing light.


	4. Chapter III: Shadow of Death

_**Chapter III: Shadow of Death**_

Voices.

He saw nothing; felt nothing; thought nothing. He only heard the voices.

They were familiar voices, and at first, Aaron assumed them to be memories. But while the voices were familiar, the words were not. These were not memories; they were dreams. Or nightmares. He didn't know. He couldn't think straight.

The voices grew louder, suffocating his weak, subconscious train of thought. All of his confusion dissolved, and the voices took over.

_Fall back! We can't take them all!_

Rach'ta's voice? Aaron struggled to see something, _anything_. His eyes wouldn't work. What was happening?

_Don't! Stop!_

The Twi'lek's warning had become a command, his voice growing loud and urgent. Was he talking to Aaron, or someone else? Aaron wasn't sure. His own voice got caught in his throat. He couldn't even feel himself breathing. And then… sounds. Not voices, but sounds.

Blaster shots. Lightsabers.

Aaron struggled to fight the oppressive cacophony. At last, he was beginning to feel something – nausea. He felt like he was spinning. He wanted to be sick, but his mind felt disconnected from his body. Again, he tried to scream. The scream did not come.

Another voice.

_Stand down, darn Jedi…_

There was a scream. It wasn't Aaron's.

A blaster shot.

Whose blaster?

Aaron heard a moan.

And then, at long last, the fog seemed to lift. For a split second, his sight seemed to return, and there was an image. Who it was, he didn't know, but there was terror in the girl's emerald eyes, and it was unnerving. Her long, blond hair cascaded down. Some of it hung in a braid. A Padawan braid!

This girl was a Jedi?

Why was he seeing her?

_How _was he seeing her?

Yes, she had to be a Jedi. She wore an elegant Jedi robe, but it was frayed at the edges, as if she'd been running. From what?

Another image materialized. Stars? Why was he seeing _stars_?

The girl appeared again. She was on the move, this time – on the run, as Aaron had suspected. She breathed hard, and then shouted, in desperation.

_Help! Somebody, help!_

And then the image vanished, all at once, without warning.

Aaron jerked up abruptly. He was drenched in sweat.

"Earthshaker! Are you alright?" The voice was Alk Koth's.

Aaron opened his eyes. "W-w-what… happened?"

"You were screaming in your sleep," Alk explained. "I thought that something was wrong. Do you feel alright?"

"I had a… a…" Aaron was going to say "nightmare", but the truth struck him out of nowhere, and he spluttered, "I had a vision."

Alk's orange eyes grew wide. "A vision of what?"

"I… I don't know! Rach'ta was there."

"Ah! Rach'ta! It was a nightmare, then, I assume." Alk half laughed. "Let me guess – he was demanding that you follow another of his battle plans."

"No, no…" Aaron corrected. "It was a vision, and… I heard Rach'ta shouting for someone to stop, saying that they should retreat. There were shots, and… I think someone died. And there was this… girl… another Padawan, I think, and… she was running away from someone. She just kept screaming, 'Help! Somebody, help!' It was awful. I couldn't… breathe."

Alk nodded gravely. "I feel it, too. I thought that it was just me. I couldn't sleep. I sense… a disturbance in the Force."

Aaron stumbled to his feet, running his hand through his hair, trying to wake himself up. He couldn't sleep now. Something was very wrong... or was _going _to go wrong, for that matter. His vision – it must have been a premonition. Jedi were known to have such dreams before disaster descended. And Alk had sensed something, too. But that left…

Aaron quickly asked, "Does Rach'ta sense anything?"

"I don't know," Alk confessed. "Get your robe. We have to wake him."

Aaron shook his head. "What good will _that_ do? My vision, it… it wasn't clear. I don't even know what I saw!" he blurted out. "If we misinterpret the vision, we could walk directly into some serious trouble. I don't want to give Rach'ta any more of a reason to doubt my competence."

"Earthshaker."

Alk put a hand on Aaron's shoulder, gripping it tightly. For a moment, the Zabrak stood stock-still, staring directly into the human's angry, confused eyes.

"I sense… that we are running… out of… time," Alk said. "Something is coming. Something… from the Dark Side."


	5. Chapter IV: Blood in the Dirt

_**Chapter IV: Blood in the Dirt**_

Rach'ta Zian woke with a start. He was on his feet almost instantly, his green lightsaber roaring to life, just as he realized that what he had assumed to be a threat was only his fellow Jedi. His bright yellow eyes flickered from Aaron to Alk, and then back to Aaron again.

After a long period of awkward quiet, apart from the steady hum of the Twi'lek's blade, Rach'ta finally deactivated his weapon. The whole thing was somehow comical, as the Padawan was still in his pajamas – but his stare was easily as sharp as his lightsaber had been. Now was not the time for laughter.

His pajamas in disarray, Rach'ta shrieked, "What in the name of the Galactic Republic is _wrong_ with you two?"

Alk raised a hand for silence. "Don't you sense it, Rach'ta?"

"I sense nothing," Rach'ta snapped, "but my own exhaustion. Is this some sort of joke, Earthshaker?" His eyes narrowed and locked on Aaron.

"Far from it," Aaron retorted. "I had a vision of the future. Alk and I sense that something is coming. Something dangerous."

Rach'ta took a deep breath, separating the inhale and the exhale. "I… I sense nothing," he muttered groggily. "You… have gone mad."

Alk shook his head vigorously. "But Aaron's vision –"

"He has had a dream, and nothing more."

Aaron growled. "I –"

"If you are concerned," Rach'ta scoffed, "then _you _can go ahead andwaste the night pacing in circles. Be my guest. But _I_ need to get some rest. And so does Alk."

The Twi'lek slipped into a sitting position on his bunk, yawning.

Alk shook his head somberly. He seemed so accustomed to this nonsense. It made Aaron want to slap the Zabrak, just to bring him to his senses. No Jedi should have to put up with this.

"Rach'ta, please!" Aaron shouted, trying to control himself and failing. "Don't you sense it? There's a disturbance in the Force. Something is wrong!"

Aaron kicked the Twi'lek's bunk, exasperated. _Why can't he just listen to someone else, for a change?_

"I have no time for this!" Rach'ta punched the mattress with his fist, and then leapt to his feet. "Let me be! If you desire to spend the evening in meditation, then do so. But I sense nothing out of the ordinary. I… am going… to _sleep_."

Sitting down once again, Rach'ta turned on his side, stretched out on his bunk, adjusted his pajama shirt, and closed his eyes.

"Wait." Alk Koth gently touched Rach'ta's shoulder.

The Twi'lek moaned, but he sat up, his eyes at least halfway open. "Alk –"

"Would you just come outside with us? For only a few brief minutes?" Alk's expression was serene, but pleading – his eyes were hopeful and kind.

"Enough, Alk. It's all nonsense…" Rach'ta mumbled sleepily.

"Just get some fresh air. Clear your head," Alk entreated. "I assure you, Rach'ta. We have not lost our minds. Something is coming, and we had best be prepared. If you can only clear your thoughts, you will see it!"

Aaron immediately added, "Otherwise, we may lose our hold on the system, simply because we turned a blind eye to our Jedi instincts." _And since you care so much about securing Ryisyyyk, you had better listen to me._

"Fine." Rach'ta agreed, with great apathy. "We'll relax. You'll catch your breath. But ten you must promise to leave me alone."

"Alright, then," Alk said. "Get your robe. We'll head outside."

With a sigh, Rach'ta got to his feet and retrieved his Jedi robe from a hook on the wall, slipping the outfit over his pajamas. "Let's hurry this along," he demanded. "I'm..." – yawn – "…exhausted."

"We won't be long," Aaron promised, not really sure if he meant it or if he even cared whether Rach'ta was tired or not. He only wanted five minutes of the Twi'lek's precious time. Was that really too much to ask?

Alk motioned for the two Padawans to follow him. "Let's go."

The Republic base of Ryisyyyk was eerily quiet this early in the morning. Every footstep echoed for a moment before diminishing into empty silence once again. The lack of activity didn't seem to be helping Rach'ta much, either. He kept rubbing his eyes, yawning occasionally, trudging along as if the other Jedi had already forced him to trek for miles.

After only a short walk through the maze of hallways, Alk, Aaron, and Rach'ta arrived at the exit gate – an immense metal hatch. Aaron could only hope that the cold wind of Ryisyyyk's outdoors would help to awaken their Twi'lek companion.

Alk pressed the lever for the door with a nudge of the Force. The hatch opened, but came back down abruptly with a grating screech that caused Rach'ta to cover his ears and mutter something under his breath in distaste.

Alk looked confused. "That's… odd. And my people say that 'Alk' means 'Lucky'. Hah!" he chuckled to himself. "Well, let's try this again." He pulled the lever a second time – with his hands, as opposed to the Force.

This time, the door did not open at all.

Rach'ta stepped forward, suddenly wide awake. "Let me try." He seized the lever with both hands, yanking it down with all of his energy.

Still, the door did not move.

Aaron shuddered. He felt a ripple in the Force again, like he had during his vision. But this ripple was stronger, fiercer – not just a ripple, but a tsunami, racing towards them, ready to drown the three Padawans in an unexpected rush of wild waters.

Aaron's stomach churned. His hands were shaking. He leaned on the wall for support, trying to keep his head from whirling. He gasped for air. He felt like he was choking.

"Alk!" he coughed.

The Zabrak wheeled around. Did he sense it, too? No; Alk still retained his usual composure. But his eyes grew wide with concern at Aaron's unexpected weakness.

Aaron must have looked even worse than he felt because even Rach'ta was looking worried. "Earthshaker, are you alright?"

That was when the shots rang out.

For years, Aaron would remember the sound of it.

In fact, for the rest of his life, Aaron would recall the way that the blast of the shots had echoed in his eardrums, pounding in his blood. It was the sound of betrayal – the sound of the guns of men that he had trusted, all turning on him without reason, raising their weapons, and firing a barrage of shots that were intended to kill.

Time ground to a halt. The shots approached in what felt like slow-motion. Alk's emerald lightsaber blasted out if its hilt, as did Rach'ta's. The lasers glanced off of their swords. Aaron jumped back, flipping behind his allies, and activated his blue blade as he landed squarely on his feet.

Clone troopers rushed in from every direction, like insects crawling out of the woodwork. One of them aimed his gun at the Padawans.

"Stand down, darn Jedi, and this will be easier for both of us…"

Aaron swallowed. Where had he heard that before?

His vision…

His vision!

Before he could process this, more shots were fired. Rach'ta and Alk blocked the second wave, but Aaron had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew that none of them – not even himself – would be able to hold out for long.

The door was sealed. There was no way out. Were they going to die here?

"Fall back!" Rach'ta commanded. "We can't take them all!"

"No!" Alk yelled. He turned his head to meet Rach'ta's eyes. "I'll hold them off! I'm the lucky one, after all!" He somersaulted forwards, spinning his blade in a whirlwind of strength.

Aaron's throat felt suddenly tight. "Alk –"

"You heard him!" Rach'ta shrieked. "Help me with the door!" He plunged his white-hot blade into the metal.

Aaron breathed hard. _Living Force, please have Alk be lucky._

The clones turned their guns on the Zabrak. He blocked them, and Aaron felt a surge of relief. But Alk staggered back, overwhelmed. He was losing ground, losing focus, losing time.

"I said to help me!" Rach'ta repeated.

The clones fired at Alk again.

Aaron silently prayed – if you could call it a prayer. It was more of a frantic, repetitive chant in his mind. _Living Force, please!_ _Please, please, protect Alk!_

A section of the door fell open at last, cut open by Rach'ta's blade. He shoved the charred circle of metal aside with the Force.

"Come on! Hurry!"

Aaron closed his eyes, feeling nauseous again. He could sense the climax coming, any minute, any moment now. But he couldn't place what it would be.

What had happened next, in the premonition? First the shots, then the lightsabers, then the… the moan. The… _death_…

It all made sense, two seconds too late.

"ALK!" Aaron's voice ripped out of him. "GET TO THE DOOR!"

Alk wheeled around and bolted, his legs racing as fast as they could, his orange eyes terrified and vulnerable. He used what breath he could muster to bellow, "Aaron, RUN!"

"ALK!" Aaron gasped again.

Alk was halfway out the door when the clones fired after him.

And the Jedi fell.

Alk Koth, Zabrak Padawan, fell face-first, his legs still inside the Republic base, though the rest of him hung outside the door.

His body went limp. His eyes drifted closed.

His lightsaber tumbled from his hand.

He was gone. Nothing remained of him. Just a body lie there – his spirit, his life was gone. Nothing remained. Just a trail of crimson blood, trickling into the dirt, leaving a bright red stain on the ground.

Alk Koth, Zabrak Padawan, had died a hero. But he was just a memory, now. His life had been seized by his own troops, and so his dead body lay in his own blood, half-in, half-out of the door.

Rach'ta Zian called Alk's name, over and over, as if it were a magical, life-giving chant. But Rach'ta could not bring Alk back. No one could. The Force had taken him. He was no more. The Twi'lek's yells were useless and empty. As empty as the body in the dirt.

Aaron did not call Alk's name. He knew that it would not help his friend. Alk had saved his fellow Jedi, and Aaron owed him. He would repay him – he would not simply stand there, horrified, calling Alk Koth's name.

Aaron Earthshaker would avenge him. He would honor Alk Koth's noble, selfless sacrifice. He would bring justice. He would ensure that not one of the Jedi's monstrous, heartless, bloodthirsty, traitorous, wicked, diabolical murderers escaped alive.

In that moment, Aaron didn't even think.

He simply whipped around and lunged for the clones.


	6. Chapter V: Whirlwind

_**Chapter V: Whirlwind**_

Aaron Earthshaker was in the air before Rach'ta could stop him. His lightsaber blazed and whirled, a pinwheel of destructive power, as he landed beside the nearest clone.

The clone screamed. His arm was gone. It hit the floor with a splash of blood, the hand dropping the blaster it had been holding. The sight made the soldier scream all the louder, until another strike – to the back, this time – ended his life in a sudden, blinding flash of pain.

The other clones panicked for a moment, but then fired. Aaron ran directly into the hail of laser bolts, spinning his blade again, forming a shield. The shots glanced harmlessly off of his lightsaber, back at the clones. One was hit in the chest. He screamed, staggered, collapsed to his hands and knees. He covered his wound with a trembling hand. Then he pitched forward and lay still.

Rach'ta screamed at the top his lungs. "Earthshaker! We have to get out of here!" He ducked under a blaster bolt, slipping behind the door. They were going to get killed. "Earthshaker!" he screamed again.

Aaron didn't hear the Twi'lek. He heard nothing but the growling buzz of his lightsaber, the pounding of his heart, the shouts of the traitors all around him, falling by his blade.

Justice. Bitter, righteous justice.

More laser fire came. Aaron blocked every barrage, strength pumping through his limbs. Now the clones would see the result of turning on the Jedi. The clones' treachery would not go unpunished. Oh, no – every single filthy copy of Jango Fett would fall. They had defied the warriors of the Force.

They would pay.

Aaron called on the Force, drawing it in, focusing it, and then… he let the energy burst forth, catapulting at the clones. Several struck the wall with a loud crash before tumbling to the floor in a heap. A few clambered back to their feet. Most of them lay cold and limp.

"EARTHSHAKER!" Rach'ta shrieked.

No response. Just a blast of the Force, in all directions. More clones hurtled back. All were dead. Some had lost their helmets. Their eyes were closed. Never again would they open.

"AARON!"

Still no reaction.

Aaron threw his lightsaber across the room, like a boomerang. He closed his eyes, directing his blade, willing it to finish off the remaining clones. The majority cried out in terror, scattering. This was not the sort of Jedi that they had known. This newcomer – this Aaron Earthshaker – was unrestrained. He was brutal and violent. He was wild and headstrong. There was blackness in his eyes. And there was rage rolling off of him, like sweat. Even the clones could sense it, and they knew nothing of the Force.

Rach'ta shouted again. "AARON EARTHSHAKER!"

More blood. More dead soldiers. And then…

More clone squads raced down the hallway, coming into view, their guns raised and poised to fire. Immediately, Aaron seized the nearby controls with the Force. He needed to close the hatches.

But the control panel had already been disabled. The endless clones poured in, like a stream of lava. Blaster bolts filled the room. All were turned on Aaron. He blocked them, but stumbled back. His shoulders heaved, but he showed no sign of surrender.

More shots. There were too many of them! Aaron tried to block them all, his blade slicing back and forth, left and right. But there were too many. A shot hit him in the arm – his left arm. He cried out in pain. His right arm still gripped his weapon, blocking more incoming fire. But the clones were pressing their advantage. He couldn't hold out for long.

Rach'ta took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do.

Without hesitation, he dashed into the line of fire, his verdant blade deflecting what he could. He rolled, blocked, jumped. He was right beside Aaron, now.

"You can't possibly kill them all!" Rach'ta warned. "We have to get out of here!"

Aaron growled. He wanted to finish this. He wanted to bring justice. But he knew, with his whole being, that Rach'ta was absolutely right.

"Let's go!" Aaron wheeled around, signaling to Rach'ta with his good arm. He made a run for the door, shouting to the Twi'lek, "Hurry!"

Rach'ta followed his ally, covering his flank. "Go for it!"

Aaron sprinted out the hole in the door. "Rach'ta! Get out of there!"

Rach'ta back-flipped, whipped around, and ran. For a split second, both Twi'lek and human held their breaths, perfectly silent, but screaming on the inside. The clones fired again.

Rach'ta leapt out the door, blocking the assault. "Come on!"

"Back up!" Aaron ordered. He deactivated his blade, attaching it to his belt. Then, slowly, he raised his right hand – his left arm still throbbed – and he closed his eyes, clenching his fist, sensing the Force and commanding it.

A huge tree, inches away, shook. Leaves rained down in a tornado. The trunk wobbled. There was a sharp crack, and suddenly the tree was in the air. Rach'ta frenetically scampered out of the way. Aaron raised his hand above his head. The tree floated up, tilting so that the branches faced the door that the Padawans had just come through.

With a gentle movement, Aaron opened his palm and stretched his arm forwards.

Like a barricade, the tree hurtled towards the door with such power that a "BANG!" like an earthquake erupted as it drove into the Republic base. There were shouts inside. The clones would never get out through _that _door.

Aaron grinned. "Earthshaker. 'Quite a name for one so young', isn't it, Rach'ta?"

The Twi'lek shook his head. "We have to get out of here."

Aaron nodded, and the two Padawans turned and sprinted away from what had once been their base. They would need somewhere to hide.

After running for far too long, their lungs on fire, their muscles tired and sore, the pair of Padawans came to a stop in a clearing. Finally, they were safe – for the time being. Rocks and grass were the only threats in sight.

Rach'ta Zian suddenly spoke.

"What were you thinking? You nearly got yourself killed! You are a fool to have done such a thing."

"Didn't you see? Our own troops… and they turned on us!" Aaron clenched his fists. "For crying out loud, Rach'ta – they killed Alk Koth! They deserve to die. They are traitors to the Republic and the Jedi!" With a shout of fury, he collapsed to a sitting position on a rock.

"Perhaps you are right," Rach'ta confessed. "They do deserve death, but you struck them down in anger. And anger is not the Jedi way."

Aaron glared at the Twi'lek with arrogance in his eyes and venom in his voice. "Can anger be evil, if it is anger against injustice?"

"Regardless of the anger's cause, it will only consume you."

"Am I supposed to ignore what just happened?" Aaron rose to his feet. "We were nearly killed, Alk is dead and… and here you are, telling me that I'm… that I'm _not supposed to be angry_."

"If you allow your anger to persist," Rach'ta reprimanded, "you will become the very darkness that you are trying to destroy. Either that or you will be killed. Just look at your arm! That was far too close."

Aaron moaned. His arm still pulsated with pain, and he didn't need a reminder. "It'll heal," he mumbled. "I'll be fine."

"You're missing the point!" Rach'ta chastised. "That bolt hit your arm. Two more inches, and it might have hit your chest. Or your face. Do you know what happens when a blaster bolt goes through the brain, Aaron? You die. You could have died! And all for revenge? That was stupidity!"

"Enough, Rach'ta!" Aaron yelled. He stamped his foot. "My anger is justified… by the Jedi Code. Treachery is worthy of death!"

"You justify your actions by the Code that condemns them," Rach'ta countered. "You are in the wrong."

"I only want justice!"

"If justice is your goal, then your anger will only hinder you."

"If I didn't hate evil, I would not have become a Jedi!" Aaron retorted.

Rach'ta shook his head, somberly, insultingly. He looked as if he were watching a child throwing a tantrum.

"The entire Code," Aaron continued, "the entire _purpose _of the Order is to _maintain _justice and _destroy _injustice! And that is what I intend to do."

"Go ahead, then." Rach'ta turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"Hey!" Aaron shouted after him. "Where are you going?"

Rach'ta kept walking. "I cannot afford to risk my life on your quest for what you call justice."

Aaron clenched his teeth. "You're… _leaving_?"

"I am choosing to continue on my own path. Alone."

"Well, isn't that just the Jedi way, Rach'ta." Aaron's voice was thick with sarcasm. "You're quite the hero!" he added. "I admire your selflessness. Why… I don't even know what to say."

Rach'ta stopped abruptly, though he didn't turn around. "Watch your mouth, Earthshaker."

But Aaron wasn't finished yet. "You're not half the Jedi you claim to be!" he shrieked. "You could have saved Alk, and you didn't! You could have listened to me about my vision, but you wouldn't. You're a hypocrite! You're a traitor! You're… just like the clones."

Aaron's last words echoed in his head.

_Just like the clones._

Rach'ta wheeled around, then – fixing Aaron with a gaze that the boy would never forget. There was compassion in the Twi'lek's expression, but there was also something condescending about the way he stared at his fellow Padawan with wide yellow eyes, like one who has seen a ghost in the shadows of the night.

"Be careful, Aaron," he warned. "You play a dangerous game, and I fear it is a game that you cannot afford to lose."

Without another word, Rach'ta Zian, Twi'lek Padawan, turned his back and broke into a run, the sound of his leather boots crunching in the grass growing softer and softer as he faded into the distance.

Silence choked the scene.

It stayed that way for a while.

Aaron simply stood there, his hands balled into tight fists, his dead eyes staring into the empty space where Rach'ta had been standing. Aaron didn't even move. He was rigid, livid, his every muscle taught, his heart pounding irregularly, his skin suddenly soaked in sweat again, though the wind was bitter, and his soul was cold, and at his core he felt like ice; hard, cold ice. Like ice, he was frozen solid with shock and pain, blocking out the forbidden fury that threatened to ruin him. Yet slowly, surely, the protective ice was melting, succumbing to the flame of rage, and dragging Aaron down toward the ravenous jaws of the Dark Side.

The anger was contained, for now. But it fought tooth and nail for its freedom - it flared to life within the Padawan, scratching, clawing its way out, whispering twisted lies in his ear, begging him to _use it_. Aaron could feel the anger that he had been taught to suppress. It felt like a living thing, like some sort of wild beast. Still, though, its whispers were smooth, and tempting; they told him what a fool he was, what a useless, ignorant child he was. There was so much _more _to the Force. He could be so much _more_. He could bring justice, if only he would surrender, and embrace the strength that could be his.

_ Rage is power. Use it!_

Aaron breathed hard. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in, breathe out.

_Be strong_, he told himself. _Be strong._

Aaron just wanted to hit something. He wanted to run after Rach'ta and scream that the Twi'lek should act like the Jedi he was trained to be. He wanted to ambush the clones again and lop their identical heads off. He wanted to just give in, to let the fury take him, to bring the justice that the Jedi were called to bring. He wanted things to be how they were before the Sith, before the war, before the betrayal. But Aaron only stood there.

He did not cry.

He did not scream.

He did not speak a word.

Gradually, a firm resolve washed over Aaron Earthshaker. He didn't need anyone. Not anymore. He was a Jedi. He had been trained for this. He was ready.

He had to be.

But where would he go? Where _could_ he go? Where would he find food? And shelter, for that matter? Would he ever get off this rock? And if he did, where would he be safe? Was _anywhere_ safe anymore? Was _anyone_ on his side?

_It doesn't matter_, Aaron reminded himself. _I don't need anyone._ But that left the obvious question, still nagging him – what would he do now?

Aaron sighed. He felt so disconnected from the world. Everything had changed, so suddenly.

_Am I really on my own?_

Aaron Earthshaker sat on a stone and buried his head in his hands.


	7. Chapter VI: Out of the Shadows

_**Chapter VI: Out of the Shadows**_

The Imperial Royal Guard stood perfectly straight, his bright, crimson robe standing out against the landscape like a splash of blood. His instructions were simple. Let no one pass. Do not share your assignment. Kill any Jedi on sight.

He was alone – alone at the entrance to the Jedi Temple, watching vigilantly for trouble. Should trouble be stirred up, clone troopers would arrive to end any disputes. Permanently, of course. That was more efficient.

All was normal, tonight. Speeders soared through the sky. Criminals whispered in the shadows, planning their latest robberies. Hurrying to their respective destinations, the usual citizens milled about in great numbers. Gangs of typical idiots rushed off to the bar with much laughing and snorting. Others were intent on collecting bounties for the system's most wanted. A few were simply headed home for a good night's sleep – a couple of hours, at best. They would be awake for most of the night.

None of that concerned the Guard. Those things were trivial. He was trained for the unexpected, the lethal, and the dangerous. Those things alone were his concerns. He remembered his directions, repeating them in his head. Do not talk to anyone. Do not leave your post. Kill any Jedi on sight.

Even the late night crowds began to clear out, after a while. No one wanted to be out on the street after dark. Pickpockets could get you. You could be mugged. You could be kidnapped. It was safer indoors. If you were awake enough, you were probably partying. Or maybe you were browsing the HoloNet for the latest news, or contacting your friends. Regardless, few citizens got much rest during the late hours. The planet didn't know the meaning of the word "night." It was always awake, always loud, always partying.

This was the Coruscant good life – every man's dream. Get rich at others' expense, gamble, party, get rich again. It was a meaningless cycle.

But it made no difference to the Guard. He stood straight and tall, his force pike on his shoulder, his eyes staring straight ahead, though no one could see them through his mask. Most would have simply passed him by, going on with their usual lives.

But not the hooded figure.

The stranger had come from nowhere, unnoticed by the Guard until the mysterious newcomer approached him directly, practically gliding across the street.

He didn't look like a citizen – more like an off-worlder, and a shady one, at that. Any distinguishing features that he might have had were hidden. He obviously did not want them to be seen. He wore a long, night-black robe that seamlessly blended into the shadows. A hood was attached, and this covered his face, concealing it. Even his feet were covered in black metal boots. They made a sharp _clack _each time that they struck the ground. It was a wonder that it had taken the Guard so long to notice. He silently berated himself. What a fool, he had been! Was this why he had been chosen as an elite warrior of the Empire? Oh, no – far from it. He was the best. The privileged. The respected.

He had best act like it.

The Imperial Royal Guard walked briskly toward the new arrival, raising a gloved hand. "Locals are not permitted inside the Temple, sir."

The cloaked figure didn't even flinch. **"I'm not a local,"** he said. His voice rumbled in a strange way, leaping up and down like a roaring fire.

The Guard stood his ground. "Off-worlders are not permitted inside the Temple either, sir."

"**I have no interest in the Temple,"** the stranger countered. **"I need some information."**

"I have no time for questions, sir." The Guard waved his arm in the direction of the street corner. "Move along."

The stranger raised a hand. It was gloved, like the Guard's. But the glove was black, as opposed to red. **"You **_**will **_**answer my questions,"** the stranger stated. He waved his hand, slowly, in front of the Guard.

"Sir, I have no time for games. Get moving."

The stranger lowered his arm. His voice dropped down an octave, though it got considerably louder – his voice vibrated and trembled with emotion. But what emotion? Rage? Frustration? Disappointment? Irritation? It was hard to tell.

The Stranger articulated, **"Are you **_**sure**_** you don't have time for me, soldier?"**

"I am a personal servant of the Emperor," the Guard threatened. "I have connections within the government. I will have you arrested if you do not move along."

"**No… You won't."** The stranger chuckled to himself. **"You'll be dead." **He raised an arm. Gradually.

The Guard screamed. His feet hovered in the air, above the ground. He was… floating? No… impossible! Only a Jedi could – the stranger was a Jedi?

The Guard's thoughts progressed no further. His lungs were suddenly crushed together, as if by a giant, angry fist. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He tried to scream again, but he only gurgled like a fish out of water.

The stranger began to tighten invisible grip. **"Where. Is. The Emperor?"**

The Guard gasped. He clutched his throat with both hands, trying to pull the unseen chokehold from his neck. "Aaah… aaaaaaaaa-aaaa-aaaah…"

The stranger called on the Force, seizing the Guard's force pike. **"The Emperor. I must speak with him. How can I contact him?" **

The stranger's hand was nearly balled into a fist, now. The Guard kicked his feet in desperation. He lowered one hand, retrieving something. A hologram projector? He tossed it to the street, where it landed with a clatter.

The stranger released the Guard with a simple movement of his fingers. **"Thank you." **

The Guard fell to his hands and knees. For a moment, he simply lay on the cold pavement, drinking in the air like water.

Then the stranger seized him by the cloak and ran him through.


	8. Chapter VII: Star Song

_**Chapter VII: Star Song**_

One of the pursuers fired his gun. Julia Star ducked, feeling the heat of blaster bolt against the skin of her neck as it missed by less than an inch. Blast! That was too close. Much too close.

Another shot flew into her line of vision – aimed at her chest, this time. She hurried to her feet, sprinting as fast as she could. Her legs felt stiff, paralyzed with a combination of fear and fatigue. Lasers rained down behind her, gaining ground by the second. She picked up her pace, fighting her exhaustion. She had to run. She had to get away.

Behind her, she could hear loose stones tumbling to the dirt as the clones maneuvered down the face of the cliff. Once they were on the ground, they would catch her in no time.

Julia steeled herself against the pain. And she had thought that her lungs were sore earlier! Now they truly burned, screaming from the endless exertion. Her breathing was ragged. Her hair was disheveled. Her skin was sweat-soaked.

Julia just wanted to sleep. When she was lucky, she had managed an hour or two, but no longer than that. And even her brief respites were irregular and unsure.

Night and day had blurred, one into the other. Day was oppressive, with its blazing light and constant heat; but night was worse, with its chilling temperatures and deep, heavy dark. Many times, she had stumbled in the blackness. Her clothes were in tatters from the many falls she had taken. She was bruised and scraped. Her knees were torn up.

Julia heard shouts from her pursuers. They were not about to let her get away.

She paused for a split second, gasping. Her stomach roiled. She needed food. Her rations were still at the barracks, and she had no way of retrieving them. Even worse, she had drunk little water. After all, the third moon of Naoraan was known for its deathly dry, barren landscape. Nothing lived here. Nothing had, and nothing ever would. Before, it had at least been a safe location for a Republic base. Now, to Julia Star, it felt like hell.

More blaster bolts. She would have screamed, but she didn't have enough air for that. She tried to weave, back and forth. A moving target was harder to hit.

Julia closed her eyes and pleaded, _Living Force, sustain me!_

She ran faster. Everything hurt. She needed to hide, but where? As far as the eye could see, there was only dirt and stone.

The clones fired again. So many soldiers. So many guns…

Julia found her breath, somehow. At the top of her lungs, she shrieked at the ebony sky. "Help! Somebody, help!"

She was answered by a dead end.

With an emphasis on "dead".

The clones had pushed her into a valley. Of course, they would have had a strategy. How could she not have seen this? Was she really going to die?

A shot hit her in the back. Julia Star screamed and staggered. The bolt had missed her heart, but it had been a direct hit. The wound was awful – for a second, she didn't feel it, but then there was searing pain. It was as though someone had thrown a lighted match upon her.

The Padawan moaned and stood up. _My lightsaber…_

She activated it, only half-upright, and put one hand on her chest, willing herself not to collapse. If she collapsed, she would be killed. She would die. And she couldn't die. She couldn't just vanish, forgotten with the past, gone with the wind. She had to fight.

The clones were getting closer. A few more seconds, and they would be upon her.

A flash of white darted across the edge of her peripheral vision. She looked up in a panic. There was another clone descending the cliff face behind her.

"Get away from me!" Julia warned. She meant to sound strong, but her voice was weak and afraid. "Don't come… any closer… or I will hurt you. I am armed. I… I _will _hurt you." She paused, desperately trying to reassure herself. "I… am a Jedi!" she shrieked. "The Force fights with me!"

The clone leapt to the ground, landing squarely on both feet. "Calm down. I'm on your side. I'll get you out of here, just… hang on!"

Julia shook her head. Had she heard him right? Was she hallucinating?

"Either you're crazy, or you're lying," Julia stammered. "If you don't leave… you'll be dead!" The power in her voice made her wince. Her lungs burned. Her wound burned.

The other clones got closer.

The strange new arrival didn't back away. "I told you, I'm on your side. I'll get you out of this!"

"Stand… down," Julia growled through clenched teeth. "_Now_."

But the clone lowered his gun. Julia braced herself. This was the moment – do or die. She prayed a desperate prayer. And the soldier fired.

At the other clones.

Julia stuttered, "W-w-what… what are you doing?"

The clone demanded, "Stand back, Jedi!" He raised his weapon – it was a rapid fire repeating blaster – and fired a barrage.

More clones went down. The rogue's aim was amazing, and his fellow clones were too stunned to react. Encouraged, Julia dashed forward, swinging her blade, ignoring her pain. She took out the commander. He hit the dirt with a cry.

After that, the rest of the fight was a blur. Blaster bolts firing, lightsaber spinning, soldiers yelling orders. All the sound became a maelstrom. Julia blocked it all out, drawing on the Force. The Force alone directed her. Her every strike landed cleanly.

Eventually, the clones all lay dead.

Except for the renegade. He lowered his blaster, breathing hard. "Julia Star?"

She nodded. "Yes." Then she winced. Her wound felt even worse, now.

The clone detached his supplies – they were on his back – and then he retrieved a medpac. "This will help."

Julia nodded again. She felt numb. This clone was helping her? But… why? How? She had thought they were all traitors, but… It didn't matter. At last, she had an ally. She took the medpac. "Thanks."

"Hurry," the clone insisted. "More of my brothers will be coming. I have to get you somewhere safe. Then I can trick them into missing us entirely."

"Alright," Julia agreed. "Let's go."

…

Ultimately, their refuge was nothing but a stretch of open space. Nothing fancy. Nothing special. Just open space – space to breathe, to rest, to hide, to just _sit down_. Julia hadn't done that in far too long.

The immense sun was gradually setting. No clones would be arriving anytime soon. The rogue soldier had contacted them immediately, insisting that he had seen the Jedi flee to the south. Since they were actually far north, they would never be spotted. At least, they hoped.

Julia took a deep breath, savoring the motion. Inhale and exhale. It was such a relief. Inhale and exhale, in and out, one after the other. Finally, her thoughts were calming down. Her fear was no longer all-consuming. As the Padawan's mind cleared, a realization suddenly struck her. She turned to the clone, and he looked up, startled.

Julia confessed, "You... you saved my life. And I still don't know your name."

He sighed."My name?"

Julia watched him, waiting for an answer. _We're out of danger, for now. What's wrong with asking his name?_

The clone eventually relented. "Alright, alright. I don't have one, okay?"

He looked away, stared off into the sunset. Julia wished that she could see his face. He was hiding behind the helmet and the armor, trying to keep to himself. She hated it. Why was he so reluctant to talk? He didn't even have a name. He was nameless, faceless - just like the rest of the clones.

But this unnamed clone had saved her.

Why?

Julia struggled for words. "Don't... don't you have a number, at least?"

He shrugged. "Thirty-nine." He looked at the ground.

Julia watched him for any indication of emotion. She found none. After a long silence, she simply stated, "You saved my life."

"It was the right thing to do," Thirty-nine said. "I would have hated myself if I'd done anything else."

"But the others," Julia countered. "Somethingcompletely changed their minds. Something to do with that order. Sixty-six, was it? What does it mean? Is it... some sort of emergency protocol, or something? It just seems like... I don't know." She shook her head. Her fear, her anger, her sorrow was taking over again. "They served her for years, and then they just... they killed her, and she was nothing but good to them." She paused. "She was a leader to them. And they shot her, and…" Julia's voice trailed off.

"Her?" Thirty-nine's tone betrayed his concern.

The Padawan's voiced cracked. "Master Merona. She… _was_…a Jedi." Julia held back the tears. _Was. She was. But no longer…_ "She was my Master," she blurted out. "I _loved_ her, so much. And they took her away from me. They _killed_ her. In cold blood. For no _reason_…"

"Zenna Merona. The Twi'lek."

"Yes."

"It's a lot to take in, I know. We'll figure things out."

Julia rubbed her eyes. She was still tearing up, but Thirty-nine was a great comfort. Honor was alive and well, it seemed – somewhere in the galaxy. This strange clone was proof of that.

She smiled. "Thank you. I... I don't know how to repay you. Master Merona… she would be proud of you. If she's watching us, I know she's proud. Very few would have done what you did."

Thirty-nine got to his feet. "Enough about me. You should rest."

"And you?"

"I'll keep watch. No one should be coming, but better safe than sorry." He tapped his helmet. "I'm equipped with night vision. Don't worry. Just get some rest."

Julia nodded. She rolled over, stretching out on the grass. It had been a long day. She needed her strength. She slowly drifted off, watching the constellations in the stars. So many tiny lights, all together, could be so bright. Maybe she, too, and those who stood with her, could shine.

Eventually, the young Padawan's eyes drifted closed in a peaceful sleep, though the stars still danced through the night in her mind - twirling and leaping and pirouetting like little acrobats, even in the face of the thunder rolling like a war cry, and the lightning flashing like a sword blade, slicing across the clouded, blackened sky. Over and over, in the land of her dreams, the darkness was suddenly set alight, and the ground rumbled, and the clouds seemed to deepen all the more.

But the stars danced on, and on, and on. And though they had no voices, there came from them a song, unlike anything heard before. It was a silent, gentle song, somehow whispering through the grass, making the trees themselves sway with the notes. Inaudible, and yet powerful. Small, yet flooding the air, from every direction. There was a glimmer of light on the horizon. That was a reason to sing. And so the timid chorus rang out – daring to hope, daring to dance and sing and shout that all was not lost.

Julia let the music blanket her sleep. Soundless as it was, the melody seemed louder than anything.


	9. Chapter VIII: The Black Blade

_**Chapter VIII: The Black Blade**_

__The Dark Acolyte's eyes darted back and forth uneasily. This wasn't what she had expected. Assassin droids would have been more appropriate – or a Sith Lord, or a Jedi. But this… _silence_. It was unsettling. Where was the test that Lord Sidious had promised her? Perhaps the newly crowned Emperor had tired of them, long ago. Perhaps that was why Dooku alone had been their Master. And now, Count Dooku was dead. It only made sense that his Acolytes should follow him. Perhaps the Emperor intended to dispose of her, quickly and quietly, as he had already done with the Jedi.

_ Impossible, _Miera told herself. _I am one of few survivors of the war. He would not cast me aside so easily. I could be of great use to him. _And she, along with the other remaining Acolytes, had been promised a chance at joining the Emperor's Hands.

Then again, Sith were not known for keeping their promises.

Miera closed her eyes. She breathed hard, clearing her mind of all emotion, save for the familiar rage that she always felt, stirring deep in her core – an ever-present, swirling blackness. She felt no fear. Fear was not the way of the Sith, but it would have been a lie to say that Miera wasn't suspicious. This was a Sith rite of passage. This was a traditional test, passed down through the generations. And this… _silence_… was not traditional. It was foreboding. For any other teenager, it would have been terrifying.

Miera glanced around at her companions. As always, Falynn seemed to be her complete opposite – intense and focused, her dark eyes narrowed, watching for any movement in the dim light of the warehouse. She was always so tense, ready to react to anything and everything. Her hand was a hair's-breadth from her lightsaber. She would waste no time in the mental gymnastics that Miera always puts herself through. To the contrary, Falynn was prepared to act. She reviewed her lifetime of lessons in her head – when to play defense, and when to play offense; when to strike, and when to dodge. She was rigid. Watching. Waiting.

Salok was different. Unlike Miera, he never spent any time in contemplation. Unlike Falynn, he never had a strategy. Salok never planned in advance. He never meditated. He never reviewed the same Sith Holocron more than once. He listened to new advice with eager attention, but after that, he committed it to memory. He was a quick learner, and fond of learning through the field of battle as opposed to a static recreation in training.

Salok never thought about which techniques to use when. He simply let his rage take over, propelling him. He was a beast in combat and a skilled warrior, but he never planned a thing. He went where the Dark Side took him, and this alone made him a frightening foe. He could fight just as well with his eyes closed, just so long as he could feel the hate, blazing, burning. That hate was obviously just below the surface, now. It was written all over his face, boiling in his eyes. He wanted to get to the fighting.

Miera swallowed. Didn't they sense it? Weren't they the least bit unnerved? She found herself spluttering, "I don't like this, Falynn."

Falynn turned her head and replied, "Surely you are not about to give up, now. After all we've worked for. After all our training, you would just –"

"Shut up!" Miera growled. "I am _not_ afraid, nor am I backing out. But I am concerned. Is this typical of the Sith tests?"

"No!" Salok whipped around, incensed. "Lord Sidious is playing with us."

Falynn's eyes narrowed. "I have never known the Sith to be fond of playing games."

"Then perhaps…" Miera paused, reasoning. "Perhaps this _is _the test? He wants to see our reactions. He seeks to test our ability to adapt."

Falynn seemed to consider this. "It's possible, I suppose, though it is awfully unlikely." Her eyes scanned the room again, like security cameras. "This is a strange location for the test, don't you think? I expected a wilderness or a mountain range. But an abandoned warehouse?" She shook her head, clearly perplexed. "It's so… obvious. It's right out in the open. I thought that this entire operation was undercover!"

"So? What does it mean?" Salok countered.

"We're supposed to be found," Miera realized. "Something – or _someone_ – is coming for us. Someone's been sent here. Assassins, perhaps."

"You mean to say that they intend to kill us?" Falynn's eyes were wide with shock. "We were assured that –"

"No," Miera corrected. "They won't kill us. Not if we prove ourselves. But a failed student is of no use to the Emperor."

"So we don't just pass or fail," Salok noted, grimly. "It's a chance to succeed… or die."

At that very moment, there was a sound of footsteps at the door.

Falynn was instantly alert. Her every muscle stiffened abruptly. Salok, too, reacted in a split second, his double-bladed lightsaber roaring out of its hilt like a ravenous animal tearing from its cage.

Miera put a hand on his shoulder. "No, Salok! Do not be so rash."

He shoved her away and shouted, "It may be an assassin!"

There was a grating screech as the door struggled to open. Salok sauntered forward, prepared to meet the intruder in combat. Falynn followed him in earnest. She gripped her lightsaber with sweaty palms. If need be, she would activate it in seconds.

Miera shook her head. _They are always so tactless._ She hung back, hoping to observe the scene from a more discreet standpoint.

Before anyone could consider things further, the door jerked open.

A stranger stood on the other side, garbed in a long, somehow sinister cloak that concealed his form and shadowed his face. On his hands were black gloves. On his feet were leather boots. He appeared to be unarmed.

Salok deactivated his lightsaber.

For a minute, all was quiet.

The stranger seemed to scrutinize the three Acolytes. **"I was not informed of a welcoming committee."**

Salok laughed darkly. "I was not informed of your impending arrival." He gripped his blade tighter, and his knuckles went white.

"**I am here to see the Emperor," **the stranger said.

Miera made careful note of the unfamiliar tone of his voice. It crackled like a flame, rumbled like a fire.

The stranger added, **"I was under the impression that this meeting was most… confidential."**

"Liar," Salok hissed. "Liar! Do you know who we are? We are Sith! We will not be tricked so easily! You are here to kill us. I will not be fooled!"

"**Here to kill you?" **The stranger chuckled. **"Well, then… I suppose I am." **He raised a gloved hand, making a gesture at the ceiling.

The lights flickered and died.

Total darkness fell like a nightmare. Falynn screamed. Salok leapt back, his saber at the ready. Miera stumbled forward, trying to get her bearings. She couldn't see a thing.

A blood-red blade split the blackness, and Falynn's visage was suddenly illuminated. With a shout, she charged into the dark – but where the stranger had been, he was no longer. Her saber met only empty air. She immediately shifted into a defensive stance, her eyes darting left and right. The harsh, crimson hue of her lightsaber sent otherworldly shadows against the walls.

Miera ignited her weapon, her heart pounding.

A few feet away, Salok's lightsaber burst forth with a roar, its twin blades sliding out, one from each side of the hilt. He twirled the weapon aggressively, leaning into a battle stance.

There was a sudden blast of the Force. Miera hurtled back, into a tower of metal crates. There was a loud crash, and she hit the ground hard.

Falynn gaped in awe. _How did that... thing… get to her so fast? _Miera had been all the way at the back of the room.

Salok lunged for the attacker with fire in his eyes. A rumbling growl tore from his throat as he launched into a furious series of attacks. He would kill this warrior. He would rend him in two. He would pass the test.

The stranger reacted with precision timing. Out of nowhere, he produced a lightsaber of his own. With a deafening buzz, the blade burst out of the hilt. Salok gasped. The stranger's blade was black as night, black as obsidian. Black as death.

The stranger countered Salok's attack, meeting his every strike, predicting his every move. _Impossible! _Salok thought. _What kind of Sith is this?_

As Salok continued to duel, Miera clambered to her feet and signaled to Falynn. The two locked gazes, and then sprinted towards their strange new enemy.

That was when the impossible truly began.

The stranger kicked Salok in the chest, and he staggered. In the same moment, the stranger blocked a slash of Miera's weapon and forced her back. And then he raised a hand and went for Falynn.

Lightning sprung forth from the stranger's fingers – blood-red, unnatural lightning. Sith Lighting was midnight blue, and this… this was red. Bright red.

Falynn screamed. Agony exploded in her every vein. She hit the floor, dropping her lightsaber. It tumbled across the room.

Salok got his bearings and tried, in vain, to hit the stranger. The warrior blocked the blow, and then wheeled to block another from Miera. Still, he concentrated the lightning on Falynn. She was shrieking so loud, it nearly drowned out the lightsabers. She was completely rigid. She thrashed and cringed away, just trying to escape, to make it stop, to make it end.

_Just make it end…_

Miera swung her weapon. Suddenly, the stranger leapt in the air, spinning his lightsaber as he catapulted towards Salok. For the first time in what felt like forever, Salok wasn't ready to react. He hadn't been expecting that at all. He cried out in panic, and then his cry cut off as the black blade met his back.

He was dead before he hit the floor.

Miera shrieked in terror. Yes, it _was _terror, though terror was forbidden among the Sith, and had long been isolated from her heavily guarded mind. She turned and ran.

The stranger temporarily stopped the lightning. Falynn gasped for air. She still couldn't breathe. She felt so weak, it was like being dead.

Miera ran faster.

Without a word, the stranger threw his black blade in her direction. It struck her leg, and she staggered, then collapsed.

The black blade returned to the warrior's hand in a flash. He was upon Miera in seconds. She blocked his first blow, but the second came from a direction that she hadn't expected. It landed quickly and precisely – a killing blow. She died without a sound.

Falynn struggled to stand. No, she still couldn't. Her energy was gone. She breathed in and out, trying to clear her head. She looked up. _Salok. _He was dead. How had she missed that? She had been screaming, for so long…

She looked across the room, afraid of what she might see. Yes, her fears were manifested – Miera was dead, dead at the stranger's feet. Suddenly, he turned. He was approaching Falynn, now. Would she really die, too? It would be such a pathetic death. Would her life of power and honor and glory truly end like this? Immobile, defenseless, and breathless? All alone, without a single soul to watch her depart?

The warrior was inches away.

Falynn forced herself to look right at him. "I am not afraid."

He laughed and twirled his blade loosely in his hand. **"You have failed, child. As all who oppose me have failed."**

Falynn shivered, but tried not to show it. She wanted to look away from the stranger. Still, though, if he would be the one to kill her, she at least wanted to see his face.

She swallowed. "Who are you?"

He paused. The only sound was the hum of his black blade.

Falynn repeated herself. She shouted, "Who are you?"

And the warrior said, **"I am Darksaber."**

Without another word, he raised a hand and suspended Falynn in the air. She coughed and sputtered. He was choking her. Her hands flew to her neck.

_No… I cannot die like this… _

She tried to breathe. No breath came. The walls blurred in front of her eyes.

And then nothing.

A loud, enraptured laughter came from the doorway. Darksaber turned on his heel. There stood the Emperor – Lord Sidious himself – in the flesh, as he had promised.

"Well done!" he chortled. "_Well_ done! You are worthy of the work that you have requested."

Darksaber nodded. **"I told you. I seek to kill Jedi – not these underlings of yours. Were they not supposed to serve under you?"**

"Yes, yes." Sidious waved his hand dismissively. "They were weak and pathetic. I had no further use for them – except as a test." He laughed again. "You have proven yourself… Darksaber. You killed one of my personal guards. You took down three Dark Acolytes. Clearly, you are well-prepared to serve as a Jedi hunter."

Impatience crept into Darksaber's voice. **"Where can I find the Jedi?"**

"Ah… eager for blood, are you? Conveniently, there is a Padawan that has been causing me much angst. You may have heard of the Twi'lek Jedi Master – Zenna Merona?"

**"Yes, my Lord."**

"Our troops have dealt with her swiftly and decisively. But her Padawan escaped, and she is on the run. The strike team sent to finish her was found dead." The Emperor sighed. "Go to the third moon of Naoraan. She is somewhere on the surface. Her name is Julia Star." He paused. "Do not allow her to escape."

Darksaber attached his weapon to his belt. **"I will not fail you, my Lord."**

"Good." Darth Sidious smiled. He gestured to Falynn's body. "Such is the fate of those who fail."


	10. Chapter IX: Into the Flames

_**Chapter IX: Into the Flames**_

The vast sun slowly rose over the horizon, sending waves of heat and light across the barren wasteland known as Naoraan's third moon. The clone trooper called Thirty-nine stretched his legs and got up from the rock he had been resting on. All night, he had watched. Only now did he feel the exhaustion. He slowly breathed in the morning air. Then he coughed and gasped. He had forgotten how arid the winds of Naoraan could be, baked as they were by the sun.

Thirty-nine inhaled again – slow and deliberate, this time. His throat felt dry and rough. He was already sweating underneath his armor. Moisture was collecting on the T-visor of his helmet, forming beads of perspiration that compromised his line of vision. He hated when that happened.

Thirty-nine panted, thirsty. He made his way over to his supply pack. He had left it beside the Padawan, just in case she needed anything. It was undisturbed, on the very same rock he had left it on. The Jedi-in-training must have left it alone.

Thirty-nine glanced down at the girl. No, she was not a girl – but she was not yet old enough to rightly be called a woman – so the clone made up his mind to simply think of her as a Padawan from now on. Her age was of no consequence. She was in danger, and as a Republic soldier, it was his responsibility to protect her.

Even if the Republic he had served – _now __the Empire,_ he corrected himself – wanted her dead.

Thirty-nine let out a sigh. The Republic was gone. It had grown up into a twisted, corrupted monster of a thing, and a sad excuse for a government. It was easy to accept that, somehow. Painful, but easy, because he'd seen it coming. He'd known it would happen.

Thirty-nine shrugged and pulled himself out of his thoughts. He had always criticized the Jedi for their endless meditation and calculation, and here he was, lost in reflection. He mentally slapped himself. He needed to act, not reflect on the past. The present was what mattered – the present and the future, but certainly not the past.

He'd become distracted. _Water, _he reminded himself. _I need water._

The clone carefully maneuvered around the Padawan, retrieving a bottle of cold water from his supplies. He drank deep and long. _Aaaah... water. _He took off his helmet, pouring some of the liquid on the visor. _That should take care of the sweat. _

The sun rose up still higher, pausing as it reached the center of the overcast sky. Despite the ominous clouds, it was blindingly bright. Thirty-nine had to look away.

The Padawan mumbled something and turned over in her sleep.

_It's late, _the clone thought. _She should be awake by now. _He gently touched her shoulder with an armored hand. "Come on, Padawan. It's time you got up."

The Padawan moaned and unconsciously drew back from the unfamiliar touch. Her dream wavered, trembled, and then fell away entirely. She jerked up without warning. In an instant, she had leapt to her feet with her emerald eyes wide and one hand on the hilt of her lightsaber. It ignited with a sudden flash and a dull hum, blazing a clear, crystal blue.

Startled, Thirty-nine stumbled back, dropping his helmet. "Hey! It's me!"

The Padawan shot a harsh glare in his direction. "Prove it."

The soldier groaned. "It's me! Thirty-nine!"_ But we all look the same..._

The Padawan watched his expression carefully. Her grip on her lightsaber tightened.

Thirty-nine racked his brain for something that he alone could know. After a moment, he blurted out, "Your back. They shot you in the back. Now do you believe me?"

The Padawan's blade receded, its quiet hum collapsing into silence again. She looked down at her feet. "I... I'm sorry. I couldn't tell..."

"It's alright." The soldier shook his head. "I know. We're all the same, I guess." He paused and retrieved his helmet from the ground.

"No," the Padawan said. "I… I'm sorry, that was rash of me. It's not the Jedi way."

Thirty-nine shrugged. "I respect your honesty, but I understand. The entire galaxy is in turmoil. It's only natural that you're on edge."

"It's beyond that." Julia sighed. "I'm not just concerned. I'm… afraid," she confessed in a smaller voice. "More than afraid. I'm terrified, and that scares me all the more."

"Your entire world is upside down, and you're still forbidden to fear?"

She nodded. "It sounds strange, I know. But fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."

The clone slowly took in the Padawan's words. "It's fear that's driven the Republic to this, no doubt," he admitted. "Fear of the Separatists, fear of war, fear of death… fear of the Jedi." He grunted. "I just don't get it. The Republic wasn't supposed to have a permanent war force. And here I am, a soldier of the Grand Army. That was illegal, before. Not exactly peace-loving anymore, you know?" He looked down. "Everyone's afraid. That's why they made us, out of fear. But why the war, if we were to turn on the Jedi, anyway?" He shook his head.

_They made us to kill, _he thought. _Why am I here? I'm a copy of a murderer, built to murder. I'm a clone. No name. Same face as the rest. Made to kill… made to kill her…_

Julia Star interrupted his thought process. "I don't understand it, either. This order… it was already in place?"

Thirty-nine nodded. "From the foundations of the Grand Army."

"But what does it mean?" she pressed.

"It's from _Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 through 150, GAR Document CO(CL) 56-95_." He shrugged again. "We all had to memorize it."

Julia looked confused. "What is it?"

"A compilation of special orders for special situations," the clone muttered. "I never expected to hear this one."

"But what does it say?" the Padawan stammered. "Why was it written?"

Thirty-nine took a deep breath. He launched into a recitation.

"Order 66: In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established."

Thirty-nine ended his recitation. Everything went deathly quiet, and the quiet lasted for a long minute. After a couple seconds, he found himself staring at the Padawan, wondering if, perhaps, she had drifted off into daydreams during his little speech. But no – her eyes were wide with shock, and her mouth was halfway open, though no sound escaped. She had heard every word of Order 66. And she was horrified.

"I didn't mean to be so blunt," the clone apologized. "I recited that a lot of times in training."

Julia's voice went cold. "_Acting_ against the _interests_ of the _Republic_?" Her voice rose to a fever pitch. "_We_ have done no such thing!" She paused, and then shrieked, "Why would the Chancellor order this?"

Thirty-nine slapped his hand over her mouth. "_Ssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh_! The troops are still hunting for you. Darn it, are you trying to get us both killed?"

Julia pushed him back. "Sorry. I… got carried away."

Thirty-nine groaned. "It's enough of this conversation, regardless." He walked over to his supplies, attaching them to his back like before. "We have to make our move soon if we want any chance of getting off this rock."

Julia looked suddenly interested. "You have a plan?"

"Sort of." He looked off into the distance. "Follow me. I'll explain on the way."

"Alright, then," Julia agreed. Her stomach growled, cutting her off before she could say anything more, so she quickly added, "While you explain the plan, I'll need some rations."

"They're in the supply pack," Thirty-nine clarified.

Julia nodded. "Let's go."

…

Julia swallowed the last of her breakfast. "Let me get this straight," she said. "We ambush the guards. You open the door of the base for us. We sneak through the complex until we reach the dock. And then we steal an ARC-170 and get out of there before we can be followed."

"Exactly." Thirty-nine adjusted the targeting scope of his repeating blaster. "But it won't be easy."

"It's our only chance," Julia replied. "We have to try."

"You're right, of course," the clone sighed. "Be sure to keep your guard up. I guarantee you we'll run into at least a few troopers along the way."

"We'll just have to fight, then." Julia detached her lightsaber from her belt. "I'm ready. How far to the base?"

"Don't rush it, kid!" Thirty-nine snapped. "We've made plenty of progress already. It's about a mile from here."

"Good." Julia picked up her pace, shifting from a walk to a sprint.

Thirty-nine followed behind her, glad that he had a helmet to shield him from the intense sunlight. He checked his gun's targeting scope one last time. He was going to need it.


	11. Chapter X: Trial by Fire

_**Chapter X: Trial by Fire**_

Julia Star's heart was pounding so violently, she thought it might leap out of her chest and give them both away. She glanced at Thirty-nine. He was crouched low against the uneven, rocky ground, leaning on one knee as he looked through the targeting sight of his repeating blaster.

A bone-dry wind tore past. Julia struggled against the urge to cough. _Has even nature itself turned on the Jedi? _Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out. _Clear your mind. Focus. _She wiped the sweat from her forehead. She could feel it in her hair, too. All these days of running had made her feel disgusting.

_No more running, _she reminded herself. _Not anymore. I am a Jedi. I will fight._

Thirty-nine's fingers tightened on the trigger of his gun. It would be a sniper shot – fast and deadly, but most importantly, silent. No one would hear the guards' last words. They would die quietly, allowing Jedi and clone to hurry into the Republic base.

Thirty-nine tensed and fired.

There was a short blast as the laser bullet whizzed straight at its target.

One of the guards clutched his chest and went sprawling. His brother wheeled in a panic, both hands on his DC-17 blaster. When nothing happened, he lowered the weapon and pressed a button on his wrist gauntlet. "Sparky to Phoenix Squad. Do you read me?"

Julia suppressed a scream. _Sparky. _She knew him well. He'd always been the quirky, erratic type, but he was loyal and brave. Until Order 66. And now… _I can't kill him. I won't. _Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to throw up. _He's my friend. I can't kill him. _

Julia placed a hand on Thirty-nine's shoulder. "Don't shoot!" she stammered, struggling to keep her voice at a whisper. "Don't shoot him!"

Before the Padawan could stop him, Thirty-nine fired again.

Julia's heart jumped into her throat.

Sparky dropped his blaster and staggered. He hit the ground with a moan. For a moment, he lay there, barely breathing. Then his chest fell, and failed to rise with another breath. He went totally still.

Thirty-nine hurried over and seized Sparky's wrist. His cold, limp wrist. "Sorry. False alarm," Thirty-nine said into the comlink. _Maybe it's good we all have the same voice._ He quickly added, "Just a… weapons malfunction. We're fine." He switched the comlink off and motioned to Julia. "Come on!"

The Padawan was crouched over Sparky's body. She removed his helmet, stared into his glazed, empty eyes. "I… killed him," she breathed.

"We don't have much time," Thirty-nine reminded her.

Julia gave her dead friend a long, sorrowful look. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She held Sparky's dead hand, grasping it tight. Then she let it fall to the ground. _Sparky... I, I killed him…_

Thirty-nine moved to the door of the base, entering the necessary code into a security panel. The hatch slid open without difficulty. "Let's move," he said.

Julia stood up, still shaken. She followed her ally without a word.

…

In an immaculate hallway of the Republic base, Commander Hotshot shook his head in frustration. "Typical Sparky," he muttered to himself. _Always so eccentric_. And Hotshot – jaded as he was – had actually felt somewhat on edge for a moment. He sighed. _I need a thicker skin. I think too much_. He switched his comlink off and resumed normalcy. He needed to check on the patrols.

But much to his surprise, he had only just started to walk away when that rumbling, roaring growl of a voice called from behind him.

"**I trust that my orders have been carried out as I instructed, Commander."**

Hotshot turned and saluted. "I believe so, sir." His heartbeat quickened. This new overseer… there was something different about him. _Something sinister_.

"**You **_**believe**_** so?**" He seemed to tense beneath his cloak. **"You must ensure that there are no mistakes! We cannot afford to tolerate failure, Commander. Without a doubt, you know that as well as I. These times are crucial. The Padawan **_**must**_** be exterminated. That ****is our sole priority."**

"Of course, my Lord," Hotshot stammered, "and I will do my best to make certain that the patrols are performing their duties as you requested."

"**I **_**requested **_**nothing, clone," **the warrior hissed. **"I gave you an order! And if it is not carried out…" **He paused. **"Surely you know that I will hold you responsible."**

"Yes, sir." Hotshot nodded swiftly. "I assure you, we are an elite squadron. We have gained much favor in the eyes of the Emperor. You will not be disappointed."

"**Find that insolent vermin," **the Dark Lord raged, **"and destroy her. Crush her underfoot; trample her; split her head wide open if you must. And then, bring me the bloody skull, and lay it at my feet! Until then, your status is nothing to me. Rip the life out of that filthy Jedi parasite and do a favor to the Empire and the galaxy. For your sake, prove that I am not a fool to have put my confidence in your boasts."**

"It will be done, my Lord." Hotshot's voice cracked, but he quickly saluted to cover it up.

This leader was so – superior. He was something not often seen among the ranks of the Grand Army. He seemed almost as though he was of entirely different descent, above the ways of the common mortal. It reminded Hotshot of the Chancellor – now the Emperor of the Galactic Empire. No one crossed the Emperor. And no one would dare cross this new Dark Lord.

The warrior half-nodded at Hotshot before issuing one final demand.

"**Do whatever is necessary, Commander," **Darksaber bellowed. **"Just be sure to clean up the blood."**

…

Julia Star paused in mid-run, her breaths coming only in strained gasps. "How far to the hangar?" she whispered.

"It's around the next bend," Thirty-nine said hurriedly.

Julia took a deep breath. "We've made it this far. Come on!" She dashed towards the corner and didn't slow her pace. _We're close, now. We have to move quickly._

"Wait!" Thirty-nine shouted, trying to keep his voice down. "Don't! Wait!"

But Julia didn't stop. She launched into a full-blown sprint, cannoning down the hall – directly into a clone trooper. The clone stumbled and hit the floor. Julia backed away with a startled cry of "Don't shoot!" Seizing her lightsaber, she ignited it in a panic, pointing it fearfully at the clone.

He activated his wrist comlink. "Commander, it's the –"

Thirty-nine whipped around the bend. A shot from his blaster cut the enemy clone off in mid-sentence. A burning hole appeared in the soldier's chest armor. He groaned, and then fell back, dead. His comlink clicked off as Julia struck it with her blade. Breathing hard, she deactivated her lightsaber.

"Blast it!" Thirty-nine yelled. "They know we're here, no doubt."

"We have to move," Julia stammered. "If they find us, darn it, we're –"

The sound of the security doors dropping from above interrupted her. Alarmed, Thirty-nine wheeled around. Just behind them, a hatch crashed down, barring their way.

They couldn't turn back.

They couldn't stay put.

They couldn't surrender but they'd never win a fight.

They had to make a run for the ARC-170s.

Julia made a mad dash for the doorway of the hangar. "_HURRY_!" Her stomach curled into a knot in her chest. _Living Force, help us!_

She was halfway to the door and so was Thirty-nine when a screech from the hatch alerted them that it was about to come down. _How far to the opening?_ Julia thought. _Ten feet? Twelve feet? _She wished that her legs would race as fast as her heart.

"Come _on_!" Thirty-nine yelled.

The hatch trembled and then rocketed down. Everything happened very quickly. In a last-ditch effort, Thirty-nine dropped to the floor and slid headfirst towards the threshold. "Drop!"

Julia dove for the door, but there was no time. The hatch came down hard. Thirty-nine sailed into it, striking his head on the metal.

"We're trapped," he grunted. _Trapped. And doomed._

…

"We're in position, sir. But… the area is secure," the clone called Blitz explained over his comlink. "The hangar is sealed. And the ARC-170s have been manually disabled. That Jedi scum won't be going anywhere."

"Good," Hotshot answered over a comlink of his own. "Stay in position until I give the order."

"Yes, sir." Blitz cut transmission.

Hotshot took a deep breath. _Blasted Jedi! That was too close._ He exhaled in relief. _Time to end this. _Without hesitation, he clicked a button on his wrist gauntlet. "Droid-bait, do you read me?"

"What do you need, Commander, sir?" he spluttered awkwardly.

"Terminate in sector H5," Hotshot said bluntly. "And do it fast."

"Right away, I'll do that now, Hotshot, sir."

Hotshot cut transmission. "Goodbye, Jedi," he chuckled to himself. "You won't be bothering us again."

…

Julia Star stumbled to her feet. "It's alright," she said, mostly for her own benefit. "I'll get us out of this." Struggling to stay calm, she breathed in and out. In the sudden stillness, she became keenly aware of an odd hissing noise from above. "What's that?"

Thirty-nine tensed. "What?"

"That noise."

He shrugged. "I don't hear anything."

"Something's hissing." Julia looked from the ceiling to the walls to the floor. _Where is that sound coming from? _"It could be a trap," she realized.

"It's nothing," Thirty-nine protested. "Just hurry and get us out of here before –"

"Alright!" Julia snapped. She took another deep breath – and launched into a fierce coughing fit.

Thirty-nine paused worriedly. "Are you alright?"

She slowly inhaled. "I…" Her voice trailed off. The room was spinning, all of a sudden. Her legs wobbled uncertainly. She felt ill. And so… exhausted…

"Padawan!" Thirty-nine reached to steady her, but she fell to her hands and knees.

"Can't… breathe." Julia coughed again – harder. "Gas," she moaned. "They're…" – cough – "…gassing us." The floor seemed to tilt beneath her. She retched. Her chest felt tight, and her lungs ached with every gasp.

Thirty-nine panicked. Why wasn't he being affected? _My helmet, _he realized. _It filters out poison. _A revelation settled like the dawn. _I'm our only hope. _

He turned to Julia and demanded, "Give me your lightsaber. Now!" She detached it from her belt, and it clattered to the floor. "Hold on," Thirty-nine pleaded. He nervously activated the weapon, plunging it into the metal hatch.

Julia was trembling. "H-h-hurry…"

Thirty-nine began to cut a circle in the metal.

"Can't… breathe!" the Padawan repeated – desperately, weakly. Her eyes tried to close. She forced them open.

Thirty-nine kept cutting the circle. A circle was fast enough, it had to be. Or should he make a square? He groaned. _How the heck do the Jedi use these things?_

"Living… Force…" Julia choked on her own words. "Protect me…"

Her arms and legs collapsed completely. She fell with a cry. She was facedown, helpless. _So tired… _She blinked. "Please…"

Thirty-nine grunted, "Almost there!" His heart was pounding. _Hold on, Padawan. _

Julia finally closed her eyes. She couldn't hold them open any longer. She moaned, trying to keep breathing. _Please don't let my heart stop beating…_

And then – a sound – a crash.

The door!

Fresh, clean air burst through the new opening like a tsunami. Julia gulped it in gratefully. She got back to her feet, the energy returning to her limbs. She felt alive again. They'd made it. They'd made it!

Overhead, on the catwalk, the clone leader called Blitz lowered his custom rifle. "Take her down!"

"Quick, my lightsaber, now!" Julia screamed.

Thirty-nine tossed it to her and seized his repeating blaster from his belt. "Cover me!"

The clones opened fire. Julia ran forwards, spinning her blade, and the hail of shots fell back. Thirty-nine fired his blaster. Two clones tumbled down from the catwalk, lifeless.

"Rogue soldier – identify yourself," Blitz boomed. Thirty-nine fired at him, but Blitz sidestepped the attack. "Rogue soldier! Surrender arms, or we _will _take you down. I repeat: stand down!"

Julia rolled and dodged another heated volley of blaster fire. "Get to a ship, fast!" she shrieked at Thirty-nine. He nodded and took off as speedily as he could, his eyes locked on the nearest ARC-170.

_Please let him make it, _Julia prayed.

"This is your last warning!" Blitz roared. "STAND DOWN!"

"Not on your life!" Thirty-nine fired again, gritting his teeth with rage. "You blasted liar!"

Blitz's expression turned hard. His mouth pressed into a line. "Game over," he said to himself. He signaled to another clone. "Do it, Crash."

The soldier – Crash – hesitated.

Blitz growled. "We are _brothers_. We are _one_. Do it!"

Crash nodded solemnly. He retrieved a grenade from Blitz's supply pack and lobbed it towards Thirty-nine. At that, Julia's face went white, all of the color draining away as she howled, "Thirty-nine, RUN!"

He dove for cover. He'd never done anything this reckless before. He was used to having a team, but today he was alone. There was nothing between him and the grenade. It arced toward him, and against his will, he screamed.

Julia deflected a flurry of enemy fire back at the catwalk. Then, pressing her advantage, she sprinted towards the approaching grenade and raised a hand. Just above the ground – just before what would have been an impact – the explosive froze.

Julia thrust her palm at the clones.

The grenade hurtled through the air and went up in a circle of smoke and flame as it struck the catwalk. There were shouts. Bodies scattered.

But the remaining clones resumed their attack as if nothing had happened.

Julia frantically blocked the blaster fire. _I can't hold out much longer! _Where was the darned ARC-170? _Thirty-nine, get that thing in the air!_

As if on cue, Thirty-nine called across the room, "They've disabled the ships!"

Julia's heart skipped a beat. "Hotwire it!"

"There's no time!" was his reply.

"We'll make time!"

Thirty-nine groaned and fired at the ship's protective plating. The small square of its metal shell slid open easily. Inside the compartment was a bundle of wires – all intertwined, snaking together, tangled beyond belief. _Seriously? _It was like a bad dream. _Force, why are you playing games with us?_ Thankfully, the ARC-170 would make for a solid barricade. For him, at least.

Across the room, a shot from the clones hit Julia's knee. She screamed in pain. She wanted to collapse – _but I have to fight! _She deflected still more blasts, growing breathless. Adrenaline was all she had now. Adrenaline and the Force.

But would that be enough?

Thirty-nine yanked on the orange wire with all of his strength. Figures – this one was stuck like glue. _Give me a break! _He punched the wire. No give. _This is impossible!_

Julia back-flipped, fighting the pain in her knee. She had to keep moving. Or she'd die. She rolled to the side, behind the ARC-170. Blitz fired after her, but missed. She was right beside Thirty-nine, now. "Hurry!" she blurted out.

Somehow, right then, whether by the Force or by dumb luck, Thirty-nine snapped the orange wire. "Got it!" _One more wire… _He moved to the red one.

Another grenade came at them. Again, Julia used the Force to redirect it and return it to the clones.

The red wire split in two. Thirty-nine cheered. "Let's get the heck out of here!" He leapt into the cockpit of the ARC-170. "Get in!"

Julia pulled herself up. Breathing hard, she dropped to the second seat, her back to Thirty-nine. Enemy fire rocked the ship.

"Jump to hyperspace!" Julia said in a rush.

"What coordinates?"

"Coruscant," she clarified. "There's a signal. It says to return to the Temple."

"I'll bet it's been razed," Thirty-nine warned.

Julia punched her seat. "Just go _somewhere_!"

The ship rocked again. Thank the Force – the fighter's shields were holding out. But for how long?

Thirty-nine punched the _Return _button. They were headed to the most recent coordinates entered. On command, the ARC-170 rose, a dark silhouette against the blazing sun of Naoraan's third moon. The fighter did a one-eighty, paused, and then revved up its hyperdrive generator. It lurched forward – and then it was gone.

Everything went silent.

Blitz cursed. "Impossible!" He heard someone – oh, he knew who it was – come up behind him.

"**My thoughts exactly." **

In a panic, Blitz turned on his heel. Darksaber was a few yards away. In his horror, Blitz dropped his rifle. Darksaber closed the gap between them in only a few lengthy strides. **"You have greatly angered me, soldier." **He drew his lightsaber and dispatched Blitz with a deliberate strike at his neck. **"I'm not pleasant when I'm angry."**

Blitz's helmet hit the side of the catwalk. His severed head rolled over the side, splattering blood on the floor like sadistic tie-dye.

Darksaber took one look at the gruesome scene before turning away with apathy. **"Regroup!" **he shouted at the remaining troops. **"This game is far from over." **

He sauntered out quickly, his lightsaber still humming its hellish tone, reverberating off of the walls.

…

The ARC-170 exited hyperspace and came to a smooth stop, hovering above the massive planet below. Stars were scattered like glitter across the sky. The planet shone in their light, its surface a swirl of green and blue, like something out of a watercolor painting. It was just beautiful. And the starlight made it seem almost surreal.

Stars. So many stars, spread every which way.

Thirty-nine looked down at the planet. "Ryisyyyk," he said.

"Are there more troops here?" Julia pressed, still vigilant.

"There's an entire Republic base," Thirty-nine explained. "Commander Krayt's the head soldier, I think."

"We should go somewhere safer. We need to return to the Temple," Julia repeated. "I'm sure of it."

"No!" Thirty-nine was firm. "I guarantee that's the first place they'd look."

"But –"

"Just trust me. Please."

Julia sighed in exasperation. "Fine! But we can't stay here."

"You sure?" Thirty-nine countered. "Cause there were three Padawans stationed here, last time I checked."

"Jedi!" Julia's eyes lit up. "We have to work together. Land somewhere safe and –"

"Wait!" Thirty-nine shouted suddenly. "Dang it, they followed us!"

Julia's heart skipped erratically as she glanced down at the radar. It showed another ship, not more than a few yards away. An ARC-170, no less. _How did they manage to track us? _She wondered in terrified awe. Unless… _It could be another stolen ship. Another Jedi on the run, like us. _

Thirty-nine moved to fire the guns, but Julia shrieked adamantly, "What if it's another Jedi?"

He grunted. "Let's find out." He punched the transmitter button on the ship's control panel. "ARC-170: please identify yourself."

The pilot, whoever it was, did not respond. Instead, the ship moved in closer to Thirty-nine and Julia.

"I don't like this," Thirty-nine said.

"Keep trying," Julia insisted.

Thirty-nine repeated, his tone less certain, "Unknown fighter: please identify yourself."

The ship inched closer without a reply.

"Something's wrong here!" Thirty-nine exclaimed. He brought his fist down hard on the control panel. "That's no Jedi!"

Julia opened her mouth to speak, but her intended answer never came. The enemy fighter soared up, suddenly above them, and a loud blast sounded as a torpedo curved towards them. Julia screamed, "Incoming!"

"Hang on!" Thirty-nine rolled the ship to the side.

Julia nearly forgot to breathe. The torpedo clipped the edge of their fighter's wing, but then whirled away in another direction entirely.

Thirty-nine jerked the ship upright."We're not dead yet!" He seized the trigger for the blasters and fired. The shots drifted harmlessly into space before fading to nothing. "Where's the ship?" he shouted. _If I can't take it down… _He searched the sky in vain.

"There!" Julia shrieked. To her shock, the enemy ship was charging them head-on. It launched a second torpedo. Violet light filled the windshield as it struck.

"The shields are down," Thirty-nine gasped.

"Keep fighting!" Julia ordered. "Fire!"

Thirty-nine obeyed and fired a torpedo of his own. The rogue ARC-170 did a loop in the air. The torpedo missed it completely.

Thirty-nine cursed. Then he bit his tongue. _Not in front of a girl! _He fired a series of laser blasts. That worked. They went straight into the enemy, which retaliated with a barrage of blaster fire. Thirty-nine yanked the steering as hard as he could. His ship dove into a desperate nosedive, the enemy's lasers missing – but barely.

"Look out!" Julia screamed.

A torpedo came from the right, and Thirty-nine struggled to evade it. He gunned the engines. The torpedo pursued them in earnest. Thirty-nine gritted his teeth. "Come on!"

And then came the blaster fire. He pulled up short to dodge it – only to hear the screech of the torpedo as it struck from behind.

Alarms sounded in the cockpit. Sparks shout out from the ARC-170, and it collapsed into a nosedive towards Ryisyyyk. A rush of blue and green flooded Thirty-nine's vision. Julia, her back to him, watched with mingled denial and terror as the stars grew smaller, dimmer, weaker and weaker in the distance.

Thirty-nine tugged the controls. _Slow down, slow down! _At this speed, they'd be dead on contact. It was all happening so fast. _Too fast!_

Julia cried out as the ARC-170 hit the ground. Her head pitched forward into the windshield with great momentum, and it shattered. Everything exploded. There was fire everywhere, dancing and spinning in a wild cyclone around her.

Thirty-nine slammed the _Eject_. The cockpit burst open, and he clambered out. He coughed. The smoke curled around him in a stranglehold, blotting all else out. He staggered. _Can't… breathe…_ He fell in a dead faint.

Julia screamed at the top of her lungs. They were filling with smoke. Her eyes watered, stinging. "Thirty-nine!" she called. He didn't reply.

Julia tried to stand. That was when she realized – with horror – that one of the ship's wings had broken loose, and she was pinned like a trapped insect beneath its weight. She kicked and flailed. It held fast. She coughed again, straining to see something – anything! – that could dislodge the wing and free her.

The red light of the flames was blinding. Julia could feel their heat against her skin. She would burn to death. Her flesh would melt off, slowly, exposing her vulnerable nerves and muscles to the fire. Then they too would be scorched, gradually consumed, inch by inch, every second racked by agony, utter agony.

"No!" Julia shrieked aloud. "Please!" Tears poured from her eyes. No one deserved to die like this, let alone her. She'd been a good Padawan – been a good person. _Why, living Force? Why?_

The flames blurred. Everything seemed to meld, to melt. Julia felt lightheaded. She coughed again. She screamed. It was over. All over.

A voice, calling, from somewhere far off. And then all went from red to black.

Total black.

**Author's Note: **So? Is she dead? What do you think? I killed Alk Koth, and I really liked him. I let Rach'ta get away, and I hated him. I killed Sparky, too, and he was a good clone, at heart. Would I really kill Julia? If not, how will she get out of this? And what about Thirty-nine? Will he live? What do you think?

Also, sorry for replacing this chapter like a million times. I kept finding more typoes...


	12. Chapter XI: From the Ashes

_**Chapter XI: From the Ashes**_

Aaron Earthshaker heard the crash before he saw it. The sound of the impact jolted him from a restless sleep. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried out of the cave into the sunlit morning. He rubbed his eyes and looked out over the horizon.

A column of smoke rose in the distance, fading the sky from a vibrant blue to a dull, misty gray. _What in the world?_ Without stopping to think, Aaron took off running in the direction of the apparent explosion. The atmosphere steadily grew darker and thicker as he grew closer. Dirt and soot hung in the air, lightly settling on his clothes. He shifted from a walk to a sprint as a sudden sense of unexplained urgency overtook him.

He heard a shout – shrill and desperate. And… feminine?

"Thirty-nine!" the voice called.

Aaron dashed up the hill and looked out over the scene. He squinted, eyes watering from the smoke. A damaged ARC-170 lay like a corpse in the charred grass. Flames licked at the mess of shattered glass and dirt and metal. One wing had broken loose, and it had fallen over the back cockpit.

"No!" the voice pleaded, from somewhere below, lost in the heavy fumes. "Please!" A tortured wail of terror from the cockpit, and what must have been tears of anguish, rang out above the roar of the flames.

"Hold on!" Aaron shouted. He ran into the fire, into the heat, not quite sure what he was thinking. He struggled against the choking smoke.

There was a girl in there, somewhere. A girl, in danger. Screaming for help.

He caught the sound of labored breathing from the back seat of the ARC-170. The blaze rose higher, sending orange light flickering wildly. In a rush of adrenaline, Aaron darted towards the rear cockpit, past a shower of sparks that narrowly missed him. What he saw next seemed to stop time itself.

A teenage girl about his age – maybe slightly older – lay there. Her eyes were closed. She was barely breathing.

Several things hit Aaron at once.

First, this girl was a Jedi. The tan robes of the Order, the lightsaber on her belt, the braid in her blond hair. A Padawan – she had to be.

Second, he'd seen her before, he was sure of it. Aaron caught his breath. His vision. The girl. The cry for help…

Third, this girl had taken quite a beating. The glass of the cockpit had crashed inward. Jagged shards of it were scattered around her. Her robe was in tatters. Her hair was disheveled. She was covered in sweat, and at her knees, the sweat was mixed with blood. She was out cold. Not dead, but out.

Fourth, and worst of all, this Padawan was also trapped – held fast beneath the ARC-170's broken wing. She was helpless. Powerless. Vulnerable.

And fifth came the strongest revelation, the emotion that made Aaron's heart skip a beat when he realized what it was. He shouldn't be thinking like this, not now, when his adherence to the Jedi ideal was being tested more than ever.

But he was thinking like this. Could he – should he – really try to deny it?

No, he couldn't fight this. He mentally admitted, _She's beautiful._ Scraped, bloodied, and beaten – but beautiful. So beautiful.

An overwhelming determination flowed through Aaron Earthshaker. _I have to get her out of this! _His blood ran cold, despite the heat. He had to do something. Now. If he didn't, this girl – this beautiful, innocent Padawan girl – would burn to death. Either that or the smoke would smother her.

Even in his panic, Aaron managed to summon up the strength needed to draw on the Force. The wing trapping the girl shuddered and then lifted up into the air. Aaron tossed it aside with a jerk of his arm. Then he turned back to the Padawan. She was still breathing.

"Thirty-nine…" she muttered unconsciously.

Aaron struggled to understand. _Thirty nine?_ A number… _of what?_ _A clone's designation?_ Or… _the ARC-170's pilot?_

Aaron scanned the area for another body. Sure enough, his eyes landed on what appeared to be a clone trooper, also out cold. He must have been… no, he couldn't have been helping the girl. Could he?

"Thirty… nine…" the Padawan called again, softly, in a low, trembling whimper.

Aaron made up his mind. Unlikely as it was, the clone must have been helping her. Why else would she be calling his name?

Aaron would have to get them both to safety. The girl, first. He leaned down and put both hands under her. Then he lifted her up and ran out of the flames as fast as he could, dodging sparks and coughing in the fumes. He could feel the girl's heart pounding against his.

At a safe distance, Aaron gently laid her limp body in the grass. Then he turned and went back for the clone. He was willing to give this soldier the benefit of the doubt – only, and absolutely _only_ because the girl seemed to trust him. Aaron slung the clone over his shoulder, hurried out of the blaze, and set him down beside the Padawan. To be safe, he searched the clone's backpack and took all he found, piling it together with the repeating blaster that the clone had been carrying.

Finally safe – all of them.

Aaron sat down beside the girl, breathing hard. She still hadn't awakened; it was making him nervous. He ran his hand through her hair. She didn't stir, but he couldn't help noticing how soft her hair was, and the way it glistened in the distant firelight, as though it were painted with gold.

It was beautiful. So beautiful.

Aaron mentally slapped himself. _Cut it out! You're a Jedi!_ He couldn't afford to have feelings like this. Frustrated, he refocused and controlled his thoughts as best he could. He shook the girl, lightly, carefully. All was silent for a long moment – until, at long last, the Padawan's eyes fluttered open.

Aaron felt relief envelop him, startling in its strength. "Are… are you alright?" he stammered.

She moaned, still only half-aware, and then winced at the pain in her right knee. _Where am I?_ Fragmented memories pierced her consciousness. Smoke. Flame. Heat. Darkness. But now, she was alive? Her world spun, and for a moment, she thought she might fall.

Aaron reached to steady her. "Careful," he warned.

She turned, suddenly noticing him. Then her lightsaber flew to her hand and activated, a white-hot wall between rescuer and rescued.

Aaron stumbled back. "I saved your life!" he blurted out. He found himself at a loss for further words. He had expected this Padawan to thank him, or cry with relief, or something along those lines. But he hadn't expected her to attack him.

"Whose side are you on?" she questioned in a growl.

"The Republic," Aaron said on instinct.

The girl's verdant gaze changed, then. Something flooded her eyes – a mixture of fear and something else that Aaron couldn't place. She gripped her weapon tighter as she asked, "The Republic or the Jedi?"

"The… Jedi," Aaron revised. _What kind of question is that?_ It felt wrong to separate Jedi from Republic. They were one in soul and spirit, woven together like a tapestry. Until…

Parts of Aaron's vision replayed in his head. This girl, running, and yelling for help, being chased. _Her squad. It must have been._ "Your clones betrayed you," Aaron said.

The girl's eyes grew wide. "Yes." She paused. "How did you –"

A groan from the clone – Thirty-nine, his name was – interrupted her. "What happened?" he mumbled. He sat up, dazed.

"Thirty-nine!" the girl exclaimed. Her face lit up, and she hurried towards the soldier, embracing him joyfully. "You're alive," she breathed. A tear dropped from her eye.

Aaron felt a sting of jealous anger. "Who's he?"

"What do I look like? A wookiee?" Thirty-nine shrugged. "I'm a clone," he snorted. He quickly added, "But I'm on your side."

Aaron retorted, "I find that hard to believe."

"He's telling the truth," the girl insisted. "If not for him… I'd just be another dead body." She shuddered a little.

"Then he can keep his blaster," Aaron decided, tossing it towards the clone with the Force. Thirty-nine caught it and returned it to his belt.

The girl stared at Aaron. "You're… a Jedi?" she realized.

"What do I look like? A wookiee?" Aaron said, with thick sarcasm. "I'm a Padawan, but close to a Knight. Master Dal Pace is training me," he added with pride.

The girl looked down, suddenly grave. "You can't possibly believe he's still alive."

"What?" Aaron growled. "But he –"

"Order sixty-six doesn't play favorites, kid," Thirty-nine interjected.

"Order sixty-six?" The words tasted oddly sour on Aaron's tongue.

"We were all ordered to eliminate _any_ and _all_ Jedi," Thirty-nine stated bluntly. "Young. Old. Skilled. Unskilled. Purple with polka dots. It didn't matter." He paused. "Not to everyone else, at least. I wanted nothing to do with it." There was a brief silence when he asked, "Where was your master, Padawan?"

Aaron had to think for a moment. "The Temple," he said.

Thirty-nine sighed. "He can't have made it out alive. I'm sorry, kid."

Aaron remembered everything he'd ever done with Master Pace. Recitations in the library. Sparring on the battlefield. Words of wisdom whenever he needed them. The Padawan wanted to hit something - _anything_. Thirty-nine's words echoed in his head. _I'm sorry, kid._

"My name is Aaron!" the Padawan yelled. "Aaron Earthshaker!" His head reeled. He felt a tightening in his throat. He clenched his fists, shaking, and his eyes seemed to smolder. _This is not happening. This is not happening. _

"I'm sorry, Aaron," Thirty-nine repeated.

Everything rose up to a boiling point inside. Aaron found himself shrieking, "You're really telling me that the whole Order, all the Jedi, they're just dead, gone, and it's all your clone brothers' dang fault?"

Thirty-nine went stock-still. His expression was concealed by his helmet, but his pain was obvious. He staggered back, stunned, and glared at Aaron. "We're not all the same!" he shouted.

But he knew they were.

"You're all traitors!" Aaron fumed. "You really just turned around, on command, all of you, and –"

"Enough!" the girl wailed. Her eyes were watering. "He saved my life, same as you. And he _is_ different. More different than you would believe." She turned to the clone. "Come on, Thirty-nine. We'd best be going."

"No!" The exclamation came out harsher than Aaron had intended. "You can't go," he pleaded in a calmer voice. "The other two Jedi – Rach'ta's gone off on his own, and Alk's dead. You'll be shot before you find decent shelter. I'm the only one that can help you."

"You have a place to stay?" the girl asked with suspicion.

"Yes! There's this cave, by the foot of the mountains. It's safe there. We could even make a fire, if you want. So it won't be too dark."

The girl and the clone exchanged glances.

"Fine," Thirty-nine grunted. "For now."

Aaron nodded. "Follow me." He turned to lead the way, but the girl ran ahead and cut him off.

"I do have a name, you know," she said. "It's Julia Star."

Aaron froze.

His vision, the girl, the _stars_…

It all made sense.

"Julia Star," Aaron repeated. "Got it." It was a fitting name, he thought. She was beautiful, not unlike a star. And her emerald eyes… they seemed to sparkle. Not to mention that her hair had that golden hue, like stardust…

"Don't look at me like that," Julia snapped.

Aaron looked down. "Sorry." He groped for words. "Uh… let's go. It's not far to the cave." Feeling painfully uncomfortable, he turned away and motioned for Thirty-nine to follow. "Come on!"

The clone was retrieving his supply pack. He attached it to his back and then hurried after the Aaron and Julia.

Aaron turned to lead the way. He walked off into the sunrise, the bright light marking the path. He felt something… new… inside of him. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. For now, it was simply new.

**Author's Note: **This chapter was shorter, I know, but I really wanted to upload it. Yes, I couldn't kill Julia and Thirty-nine, but that might change later. I'm a cruel author, and I make my characters _suffer_. (That sounded sort of evil…) But you get my point. There's no telling what I'll do next.

Also, thanks to those who have been reviewing this story: Master Jessie and The Freelancer Seal, your reviews really make me excited!

I'll hopefully write more, soon. Until then, may the Force be with you all!

One question: has ever messed up your document uploads, creating spacing errors where there were none? It's been doing that to me, and I don't know why. It's annoying!

Ok, I'm done. MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU...


	13. Chapter XII: Dead or Alive

_**Chapter XII: Dead or Alive**_

Evening fell quickly, it seemed. The last rays of light sank over the horizon, painting the sky with the burning red, orange, yellow, and pink of sunset. The moon rose and settled down at its appointed place in the sky, a night watchman over the planet Ryisyyyk. A temporary calm settled under its pale, blue-white glow.

Thirty-nine was already asleep, stretched out on the floor of the cave. The stone cavern was illuminated by their makeshift campfire. Although it was small, it did its job well enough. The flickering light was welcome in the darkness. It sent ever-changing patterns of shadows leaping against the walls.

Aaron had insisted on making a fire, but he hadn't stayed to enjoy it. After making sure that his new companions were comfortable, he had promptly volunteered for guard duty. He was outside the cave, watching for danger like a hawk.

Julia had to admit, Aaron seemed awfully… _protective_… considering that they had only just met. To be honest, she did find him intriguing. Rescuing both her and Thirty-nine from the blazing ARC-170 had been quite the show of bravery, and Julia respected that – maybe even admired that. If Aaron was lacking in anything, it most definitely wasn't courage. But he was so… _intense_. He had a headstrong edge to him, and it made her nervous.

Part of her felt safe near him.

The other part felt uncomfortable and out of place.

Julia turned over on her side. _Why can't I just fall asleep, already?_ They were fairly well-protected here, for the time being. And yet, still, a sense of foreboding hung over her, refusing to leave her alone, like a half-starved animal toying with its prey. _When will I finally relax? _Julia heaved an exhausted sigh. Lately, even with her allies at her side, it was easy to feel alone.

There were suddenly footsteps at the mouth of the cave. Julia looked up to see Aaron's face standing out in the firelight. She closed her eyes, hoping it would look like she was asleep. She didn't need him to be any more overly concerned than he already was.

Aaron approached her slowly. "Can't sleep?"

She didn't react.

He laughed at that. "I know you're awake."

Julia sighed. "Alright, you win," she relented, stumbling to her feet. "I thought you were keeping watch."

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Aaron said. He shrugged. "Is something bothering you?"

_Yes. You are! _Julia wanted to shout, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Aaron was trying his best to make things better for her. He was being kind, even in the midst of a galaxy that was suddenly cold and cruel. She had to give him some credit.

Julia gently replied, "I'm alright."

Aaron searched for an appropriate response. _Why are girls so hard to read? _Was he supposed to believe her? From what he could tell, she was awfully stressed out. But then again, who wouldn't be? Since Order 66, there was plenty to stress about. Or was he reading into it? Was she really as "alright" as she said? Maybe he was thinking too much. But…

Aaron mentally slapped himself. _Just say something, you idiot! _"Uh… how's your knee?" he managed.

Julia gestured at the sleeping clone. "Thirty-nine bandaged it. It should heal on its own," she explained. She paused, and then added, "He's a real soldier, you know. He was the only thing between me and death."

"Yeah, about him." Aaron swallowed. He knew what he had to say, but boy, he was dreading it. "I… I'm sorry about earlier," he stammered. "I just lost it. I don't know what I was thinking. I just… I was stupid, okay?" He stared down at his feet, wanting to look anywhere but at Julia's eyes. They kept making his head swim. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "He _did _save your life, after all. That has to count for something."

Julia smiled, and the sight of it made something leap inside Aaron – something strange. "Thanks," Julia said. She looked at Thirty-nine. "You should talk to him, later. He… he doesn't trust you."

"Then the feeling's mutual, I guess," Aaron said with a forced laugh. "_You _should talk to him. Not me."

"Fine," Julia agreed. She went quiet, suddenly realizing something. "I… I'm sorry, I'm bothering you," she stammered. "I'll be alright, really. You can get back to whatever you were doing and –"

"No, I don't mind," Aaron said in a rush. "If you really can't sleep, you can come outside with me, if you want. You know, to get some air."

"It's better than tossing and turning all night," Julia decided. She turned and walked towards the mouth of the cave. Aaron followed.

What they saw next took Julia's breath away. She froze, speechless, staring up at the sky.

Stars. No clouds.

Just stars.

There had been stars above Naoraan, but the sky above Ryisyyyk made all that pale in comparison. A million, billion, trillion stars shone brightly, spread everywhere that the eye could see, sparkling and glittering. They were more vivid than any that Julia had seen before. If hope, and dreams, and joy, and faith, could be physically manifested, the result would have looked like those stars. The sight awakened a certain peace within Julia, reviving a sense of comforting security that nothing could kill.

Not the clones. Not the Sith.

No one.

Julia took off running, feeling almost as though she could fly up to touch the stars, if she only leapt high enough. She was out in the open – but somehow, she wasn't the least bit afraid. She felt like she could run in the grass forever, if she wanted to. So she did. She ran, so free in that moment.

Aaron sprinted after her, breathless, desperate. "What are you doing?" he yelled in a panic.

"Look up" was all she said.

He did, and then answered, "It's just stars."

Julia sighed. "Don't you see how beautiful they are?"

"Yeah," he said. "So?"

Julia looked down, and then fixed him with her emerald eyes. "Everything's changed, Aaron," she explained. "Our friends hate us. Our teachers are dead. And they're still shining, Aaron. The stars… they're always shining. It's just hard to find them."

Aaron looked up again. So many stars, gleaming, shining. Never had it meant so much. "You're right," he realized.

Then Julia said something totally unexpected. A huge smile spread across her face, and she exclaimed, "Catch me!" Then she took off, laughing.

Aaron didn't stop to think. He launched into the chase, and after a minute he had caught her. She tumbled into the grass.

"What are you doing?" Aaron chastised. "Make too much noise, and we could get ourselves killed!"

Julia sighed, but she didn't contradict him. He was right. She knew it. But she had made up her mind. She looked right at him and said, "I'm not going to let Order sixty-six take _everything _away from me." And she ran, her path lit by the stars. She laughed again, louder. Aaron thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

They ran for a while. They ran until they could run no more, until they were exhausted and gasping for air.

Julia sat down on the grass, breathing hard. She felt so calm, despite everything. She leaned back, laid her head on the ground, and looked up at the stars.

Aaron sat down beside her. She was so… _innocent_. Under all those layers of fear and uncertainty, there was a young girl who wanted nothing more than to lie down and count the stars.

_It's_ _getting even later_, Aaron realized. "You should go back inside," he said. "It's safer there."

Julia shook her head. "No. I'll be fine." She paused. "Um… thanks anyway. I've never had anyone so… worried about me, before," she admitted. "I appreciate it, but I can't just stop living because we're wanted dead. If I give up everything… I'll _still_ die, regardless. I'll die _inside_." She took a deep breath, and a look of resolve crossed her face. "I won't… I _can't _let that happen."

"Alright," Aaron decided. "You can stay out here. I'll keep watch. You can rest."

He turned away, avoiding her eyes again. They kept muddling his thoughts; he couldn't even think of anything else to say. Julia made everything so much _simpler_. Here he was, worried about righting wrongs and punishing injustice. And she made him forget about all that, made him stop and think.

Aaron decided that he needed to slow down. He needed to pause, like Julia, and watch for the glimmers of hope, even now. He needed to look for the stars. He needed to keep living – even in the face of Order 66.

Aaron looked up at the sky. _All is not lost,_ the stars seemed to cry. _All is not lost_.

He made up his mind that it wasn't – not unless he gave up. As long as he kept fighting, as long as he looked for the stars, he would find them.

Order 66 couldn't take everything away from him.

He wasn't about to surrender now.

…

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long. I've been busy. I would have published it last week – I had the rough draft done, and I completed the final copy on my computer, but then… BLAST! I accidentally deleted it before I could upload it. I was so disappointed I freaked. But now I rewrote the final draft, and I think this turned out even better than last time.

Also, I officially have completed a FanFic trailer for this story. You can view that on YouTube under the username KeyboardKarate. I disabled comments, because some people on YouTube are jerks who don't know how to post anything but curse words. So, to avoid that, I disabled comments altogether. The trailer took a while, so I'm pretty happy with it.

Now, for a few weird things. Remember how Darksaber's Sith lightning is red? Well, I re-watched some of the Mortis episodes on Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and "The Son" has RED SITH LIGHTNING! AAAAAAAAAH! Then I re-watched episode one of TCW's Citadel trilogy. One of the clones died, and the Commander shouted his name in a panic. Guess what the clone's name was? HOTSHOT! AAAAH! It scared me so much; I re-winded the episode to make sure I'd heard it right. And guess what? IT WAS STILL HOTSHOT.

AAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Okay, I'm done with my overly long author's note. May the Force be with you!


	14. Chapter XIII: Hunter and Hunted

_**Chapter XII: Hunter and Hunted**_

When morning's light finally dawned, Aaron heaved a sigh of relief. Safe. They were safe – for now. Aaron felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from him. All night, he had faithfully kept watch. With Julia sound asleep, he had again found himself tense and protective, his head swimming with a mixture of anger and determination.

Aaron had glanced at Julia. Innocent young girl, battered, but not broken, lying in the soft grass, breathing softly, her eyes closed. She was so at peace. So fragile. The filthy, compassionless clones would get nowhere near him, nowhere near _her_. Tonight, he was the Padawan's sole protector.

_I will keep her safe, _Aaron had vowed.

And now, he knew he had.

He had done as he had promised. Aaron felt so relieved; it was like a thunderbolt, a jolt of physical energy. The realization that doom was not imminent sent an electric rush through the Padawan youth. They had survived the night. No one had attacked. He had done his job well, and a small pride swelled up inside him.

Out of nowhere, someone shouted, "Aaron. _Aaron_!"

Aaron wheeled around to see Thirty-nine racing towards him. The clone wasn't wearing his helmet, so it was easy to read the panic in his eyes. His right hand was raised, clutching his blaster. His left hand was balled into a fist. Drops of sweat were forming in his cropped hair.

"Where is she?" he snarled. He waved the gun at Aaron in a thinly veiled threat.

"Cool it, hothead," Aaron said. "She's right there. I took good care of her." He gestured a few feet away, where Julia was laying on her back, sound asleep.

"You could have told me," Thirty-nine objected.

"You were out cold."

"Whatever." The clone lowered his gun. _Guess I won't need it just yet. _"Any idea where we can get some food and water? My rations are running low."

Aaron swallowed. "Uh… that could be interesting."

Thirty-nine raised an eyebrow. "Interesting?"

"The planet's virtually uninhabited," Aaron admitted with difficulty.

The clone snorted. "You're really telling me a system this ideal for life forms doesn't even have a few stupid beasts?"

"Well… yeah. No one knows why, but nothing lives here."

"You're messing with me," the soldier groaned.

"No, I'm not!" Aaron snapped. "There are a few crazy stories about these predators – these dragon things that feed on each other – but seriously, nobody believes that crud. And besides, they're supposed to live in the mountains! And they're supposed to be dangerous."

"So there's really nothing to hunt?" Thirty-nine sighed.

Aaron nodded. "Pretty much."

"Dang!" Thirty-nine looked away. "That's awfully… unexpected. And strange. What's the backup plan?"

"I say we ambush a few of the clones and steal whatever they've got."

"And when that runs out?"

"They're bound to fly more rations in once the soldiers need it," Aaron stated simply. "We can attack the drop ship. Sound like a plan?"

"It sounds like suicide."

"Do you want to eat?" Aaron raged. "Or do you have a better idea?"

"Fine, fine," Thirty-nine quickly agreed, raising both arms in surrender. "I don't want an argument. I just want to survive this chaos, okay?"

"Fine," Aaron retorted.

They stared at each other. The silence was deafening.

"I'll wake Julia," Thirty-nine said after a long minute. "Looks like we ought to be ready for a little fight."

…

The sound of Darksaber's distinct footsteps was unsettlingly loud as he made his way across the barren stone towards his ship, the _Shadow_. It was a unique ship, larger than a standard fighter, but a million times smaller than something like General Grievous' _Invisible Hand_. The _Shadow_ was distinguished by the sharp, yet subtle angles of its two main wings and the twin pairs of small, supporting fins above and below. It was a menacing, yet understated machine. It spoke of the strength and elegance of its pilot, and it stood out amongst the sundry of ships sprinkled about the galaxy.

Its black paint shone beneath a chrome finish. Its illegal weaponry was cleverly concealed. It even possessed a rare and effective cloaking device.

The _Shadow _was a ship to be feared. Therefore, Darksaber found it most pleasing. He would have felt a rush of pleasure as he made his way up the boarding ramp, if not for the explosive fury within him and the dismal news that knew he must deliver without further delay.

Darksaber made his way to the cockpit and activated his hologram projector. A life-size image of Darth Sidious, Emperor of the Galactic Empire, materialized with a loud beep and a dull crackle of static.

"**Greetings, my Lord." **Darksaber bowed low on one knee, submitting out of necessity alone. **"I bring fresh news of the hunt."**

"Yes, of course," the Emperor said coolly. His stone expression was unreadable, the lines of his disfigured face pulled tight. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You may rise, Darksaber. I trust your report will brighten my morning."

Darksaber let a wild, animalistic roar tear out of him. Hot anger trickled through him, and the air in the cockpit felt suddenly thick. He rose – no, jerked – to his feet, his cloak whirling in a black tornado from the abrupt and threatening motion. His arms went rigid at his sides, and his gloved hands clenched into fists. He was like a lion about to throw itself upon its prey.

"**Your soldiers have been useless to me," **Darksaber growled. **"I tasked them with exterminating the Jedi vermin, and unfortunately for Commander Hotshot, they failed me entirely!"**

"I see," the Emperor replied. "You dealt with him appropriately, I presume?"

"**The blood from his ugly, severed head was as honey in my mouth."**

At that, the Emperor burst into fierce, icy laughter. "Good, good!" His smile widened. "That useless stain upon my Empire has received his due wages. I am pleased. Very much pleased."

"**Thank you, my Lord."**

"However" – and here the Emperor's voice was hard – "I am most surprised to hear that a warrior of your caliber was incapable of eliminating a single, pathetic child."

"**She was a **_**weakling**_**!" **Darksaber objected. **"Such children are unworthy of my prolonged attention."**

"You failed to engage her directly?" There was no mistaking the undercurrent of rage in the Emperor's voice.

"**She deserved only a simple death at your troops' hands," **Darksaber explained. **"I oversaw the operation. I gave specific orders. And your soldiers have utterly failed me!"**

"This failure is yours alone, Darksaber."

"**It is your army that has failed! The child – a child, nothing more – managed to outwit them. This should not be! She and her ally –"**

"What?" Now the anger in the Emperor's tone was boiling over. "An ally?"

"**One of the clones has betrayed us," **Darksaber angrily confessed. **"He helped to hotwire an ARC-170, and –"**

"What is his name?"

"**He bears no name, and is needless of it. The clones are numbers, and nothing more."**

"And his number is?"

"**Thirty-nine."**

The answering silence was worse than a reply.

After a few seconds, the Emperor said, "This news fails to please me, Darksaber. I may be forced to consider other methods of tracking if such missions are truly beneath your dignity."

"**No!" **Darksaber half-screamed. **"I know where the Padawan has fled, and I intend to make her suffer, to pay her in full for what she has done."**

"Ah, so you are not entirely lost," the Emperor noted, almost to himself. "How is it that you discovered her location?"

"**She is in a place most familiar to me, on a planet most closely related to me, tainting what land will always be tied to me. I cannot allow it. I will hunt her down, and slaughter her!"**

The Emperor was abruptly caught off guard. The origins of this warrior had been of great interest to him, and the prospect of discovering this greatly intrigued him. "What planet might this be?" he inquired.

"**Ryisyyyk," **Darksaber spat. **"The birthplace of what I have become… and the destruction of what I once was."**

"How can you be sure that the child is there?" the Emperor pressed.

"**I have sensed her presence," **Darksaber replied, **"and the cursed hypocrisy with which she poisons my home."**

"Find her, then," the Emperor instructed. "Ready what troops you desire, and go to the Outer Rim. Kill this child. And when the deed is done, bring me her lightsaber, as you have promised."

Darksaber nodded, reluctantly kneeling once again. **"It will be done, my Lord."**

The Emperor did not wish him luck. "Do not fail me again," he said.

The hologram vanished with an electronic hiss, and then Darksaber was alone in the silent cockpit of the _Shadow_.

…

"I'm… I'm so sorry I made you do this, Thirty-nine," Julia lamented. She carefully detached a supply pack from one of the dead bodies.

"We have to eat," Thirty-nine sighed. "We had no choice." He spoke with indifference, but he couldn't seem to look directly at the scattered clones. Dead clones.

He'd killed them. Killed his brothers. With their own standard issue frag grenades. He felt numb inside. Had they betrayed him, or had he betrayed them?

Had morality been washed away altogether? It seemed that black and white had died in the war. There was only the red of blood, and the hard black of death, swallowing whole the hero and villain alike.

Aaron tried to be kind. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

Thirty-nine grunted. Alright? What did they care about his stupid brooding? _Get on with it, _he told himself. _Get moving and _do _something_. But his train of thought had already jumped free of its tracks and careened in this very unwanted direction.

Where was the honor that a soldier should earn? He couldn't help but wonder. Here he stood, stooped low over his murdered brother, stealing his food. _Real honorable, _he thought, and was surprised that he was still capable of sarcasm.

"You can stop acting invincible now," Julia said. This broke the clone's thought process, and he was grateful. "We've all been hurt by all of this," the Padawan added. "You don't have to pretend it doesn't matter."

"But that's just it," Thirty-nine countered. "It doesn't. It doesn't matter at all." He turned away, but tripped over one of the bodies. The dead soldier's helmet tumbled off, exposing his face.

Thirty-nine winced when he saw the clone's eyes – _his _eyes – closed forever, sleeping in death.

"Come on, let's go, already!" Thirty-nine stammered. He snatched up a pack of the dead men's rations and began to run.

Julia and Aaron exchanged skeptical glances.

"What is his _problem_?" Aaron muttered to himself. He turned to Julia. "Get the rest of the rations together. I'll catch up with him." He took off after Thirty-nine. The clone was already far ahead, almost in the distance.

"Hey!" Aaron called. "Wait up! You can't just –"

"Shut it!" Thirty-nine clamped an armored hand over Aaron's mouth. He pointed at something in the distance. "You see that?"

Aaron shook himself free of the clone's grip. "See what?"

"That." The clone detached a pair of binoculars from his belt and snapped them open. He tossed them to Aaron, who caught them.

"What am I looking for?"

"Straight ahead, by that clump of trees," Thirty-nine whispered. "See it?"

Aaron adjusted the focus on the binoculars, and the blur of his surroundings began to solidify. Grass, rocks, trees – he zoomed in on the trees.

And then he saw it.

An ARC-170 was nearly concealed by the trees. Aaron drew in a sharp breath. They'd been found. Someone must have heard the explosion from earlier. The ARC-170 had landed to investigate. But…

"Are there more?" Aaron asked.

"I don't think so," Thirty-nine answered. "But where's the pilot?"

Aaron increased the zoom of the binoculars. "There's no one in sight. But where would they have –"

"Get down!" Thirty-nine screeched.

Aaron didn't even have the chance to think. In the same split second that he heard the clone's command, he fell flat against the grass. There was a flash of heat, narrowly missing his neck, and he looked up just in time to see a double-bladed lightsaber arcing through the air, back in the direction from which it had come.

Immediately, Aaron leapt to his feet, igniting his own weapon. It blazed to life. Now armed and ready, the Padawan turned, locking eyes with his opponent for the first time.

Several yards away, a young Togruta twirled his dual-bladed weapon in a confident challenge. The lightsaber's blade possessed a golden-copper hue, a sort of bright, yet muted yellow. Its distinct light shone against the warrior's face.

Something clicked into place for Aaron. This was a Sith assassin, no doubt.

The enemy's eyes were a deep maroon, his skin a light orange common among the Togruta species. His head-tails were far shorter than a female's would have been – even shorter because he was an adolescent – and they became rounded into points at the ends. Unique white markings were on his face, and white stripes ran down his head-tails.

He was garbed in an elaborate black robe. Around his neck was a small chain necklace, from which hung a myriad of teeth and claws, probably severed from beasts that he had killed. Similar trophies hung on his wrists.

And the warrior was tall, and well-proportioned – a little taller than Aaron, and easily far taller than Thirty-nine.

"I trust that you intend to kill me," the Togruta said, almost gleefully, exulting in the adrenaline, the intensity, of the commencing battle. "I'm not a coward. I will fight you here and now, and then we will see who kills who."

Aaron gripped his blue lightsaber with both hands. "Stay back, Thirty-nine."

Beneath his helmet, the clone's eyes grew wide. "Aaron, don't!"

But his words had no effect. Heart pounding, blood boiling, Aaron launched himself at the Togruta and swung his blade as hard as he could.

…

_**A/N**_: This should make up for some of my shorter updates as of late. Believe it or not, I wrote more than half of this while I was visiting my aunt. We had a lot of down time, so I worked in my notebook when we were chilling out. The scene with Darksaber and about half of the final scene were written on my little vacation, so go figure…

Thank you again to all who have reviewed so far – namely, MasterJessie (you gave me the longest, most awesome review ever last chapter!), TheFreelancerSeal (I promise to review your story, I just haven't gotten around to it, I read it, I liked it, please don't hate me lol!), and Skywalker195.

Skywalker195: I'm so glad you like Darksaber. I created him on a whim, and he's taking on a life of his own! I'm going to reveal more of his past later in the story, and possibly write a separate FanFic about his origins, although the latter is more unlikely.

Now, back to the point. WAH, HAH, HAH! I ended this chapter in a cliffhanger. I will torture you all! *uses Darth Sidious' creepy laughter*

Yeah, that was random. So, are you worried about where this is heading? Was Darth Sidious in character?

How do you feel about this new Togruta? I've been anxiously awaiting my chance to introduce him. I wasn't quite sure how to get from Point A to Point B in this story, but now my plan is taking shape, so hopefully this is getting somewhere. My ideas are exploding lately, especially after I bought some new instrumental music to get my gears turning when I write.

I guess my constant daydreaming about these characters is paying off…

Anyway, thanks for reading! I know my author's note is always too long...

If you haven't reviewed this story before, please do review. Reviews make my day! (Just please refrain from outright rude comments. Thank you.)


	15. Chapter XIV: Last Stand

_**Chapter XIV: Last Stand**_

The Togruta was as still as a stone until a fraction of a second before Aaron's lightsaber would have connected. Then the Sith suddenly weaved to the side with precision timing, blocking Aaron's attack with the tip of his blade. The warrior whirled, spinning his weapon in a golden vortex, and lashed out. Aaron had just enough time to duck under the arc of his opponent's saberstaff. He parried the next slash, and then leapt back, frantically trying to form a strategy through the red haze filling his mind.

This Togruta was an elegant, agile duelist. It would take more than brute strength and howling fury to take him down.

As if to confirm the Padawan's suspicions, the Togruta laughed proudly. "Lay down your weapon now, assassin," he goaded. "You have no chance of defeating me."

"He's right, Aaron," Thirty-nine warned. "Stop this!"

A growl ripped out of Aaron as he lunged for the Togruta again.

The two warriors found themselves locked in a furious exchange of blows. The power of Aaron's strikes sent shudders running from the tips of the Togruta's fingers to his shoulder. He dodged to the side, as before, but this time Aaron had been expecting it. He unleashed a shockwave of the Force from his palm. The grass bowed low in the sudden wind brought on by the burst of energy.

But the Togruta never missed a beat. Empowered by the Force as it flowed through him, he leapt high into the air. The red-orange of his skin stood out in the sunlight. Momentarily blinded, Aaron lost his focus. The Sith curved down, both sides of his blade moving to cleanly slice his opponent's head from his body.

Thirty-nine saw it coming. He reached for his blaster, raising it, trying to aim. His trembling hand yanked the trigger, and then everything happened in slow motion, every second audibly ticking by, every sound loud in the stillness.

_Click_, went the trigger.

_Hmmmmmmmm_, went the saberstaff as it curved through the air.

Thirty-nine's flesh was cold and clammy. _Come on, come on…_

_Bzzzzzzzzzzzt_, went the saberstaff as it came even closer.

_Click_, went the trigger.

And then – _BOOM_ went the gun.

A shower of laser fire launched at the Togruta. Several shots glanced off of him, and he was forced to drop to the ground in a crouch, missing Aaron entirely. Thirty-nine exhaled in relief. Thankfully unharmed, Aaron tried to hit the Sith, but the Togruta spun on one hand and tried to sweep his opponent's legs out from under him.

It worked. Aaron found himself flat on his back, the Togruta's lightsaber swinging at him. But he managed to deflect the blow, and he lashed out with a sharp kick at his enemy's chest. The Sith staggered. His eyes, maroon only moments before, were bloodshot.

Leaping back to his feet, Aaron panted, short of breath. "Remind me… what you said… about defeating you, assassin."

"You play with my mind!" the Togruta screamed. "_You _are the assassin!"

He swung his blade at Aaron, and the battle began again. Yellow and blue sabers tangled in midair, snapped apart, and then collided again. It was challenging even to think over the din.

Slowly, surely, Aaron was losing ground. As the duel grew increasingly heated, he found that his rage clouded his focus, while the Togruta's precision seemed to grow more and more refined as time wore on. It became more and more difficult for the Padawan to keep his guard up. Once, he barely managed to leap over a strike that was meant to sever his legs.

Finally, all jumped to a fever pitch. The Sith released a blast of the Force, and Aaron hurtled back. Though he landed solidly, he was winded. His heart beat heavily against his ribcage. His breathing was jagged and raw.

The Togruta came on, launching into a lightning-fast series of strikes.

Aaron knew that he couldn't hold out much longer. He was barely succeeding at deflecting the onslaught of attacks. He wanted to tell Thirty-nine to run, but he feared that the clone would get killed if he made a break for it.

The Sith increased the power of his swings.

Desperate, Aaron mustered all of his strength and back-flipped away from the Togruta. But the Sith would not be so easily thwarted. He raised a hand, levitating his lightsaber, as he had at the start of the fight. The weapon spun through the air, a white-hot spiral of startling speed.

In the broken second that it took for the weapon to rocket towards Aaron, he managed to land safely on the ground, leaning on one knee. He raised his lightsaber, parrying the boomerang attack of his foe. The whirl of deadly light went over his head with a crazed buzz, singing the ends of his hair. The scent of the charred air filled the Padawan's nostrils. He could taste sweat on his tongue.

The Sith's blade wheeled and reversed direction. It was going to come around a second time.

Aaron gasped. _The Togruta… where is he?_

Aaron looked up to see the Sith flipping over his head. With a shout of triumph, the Togruta called his weapon to his hand in a flash of the Force. Before the Padawan could register what had just happened, the Togruta brought the lightsaber down his back.

Burning. Pain.

Aaron's lightsaber slipped from his hand, dropping uselessly to the grass beside him. He cried out, then gritted his teeth in contempt. He could not stop now. Thirty-nine needed him.

Julia needed him.

The Togruta drove his foot into Aaron's side. The Padawan groaned in pain, but did not collapse. He couldn't admit defeat. Not when they still needed him. Not when _she _still needed him.

_Julia… I'm… sorry…_

The Sith spun and kicked harder. Anger failed to fuel Aaron's resolve. This time, he screamed and fell forward, lying helplessly on his side. _I failed them, _was all he could think. _I failed… her…_

Some absent part of Aaron's brain registered that Thirty-nine was still right here, still in danger. As much as the Padawan distrusted the clone, he knew that right now, if he died here, Thirty-nine would be the only one left to protect Julia.

The soldier had to survive.

"RUN!" Aaron shrieked through his pain. "TAKE JULIA AND RUN!"

The clone was off like a shot, his legs racing frantically across the earth. The Sith made no move to stop him.

"HURRY!" Aaron yelled, steeling himself against the anguish. His back… was… on fire. "GET OUT OF HERE!" he screamed. The Togruta put his foot on top of him in victory, and Aaron howled as he was crushed facedown against the dirt.

His back… was… ripping in two… it felt like…

"Who's with you?" the Togruta hissed, inflectionless. "How many clones are here?"

Aaron ground his teeth together, his voice emerging in a hoarse, guttural growl. "Why should I tell you?"

In reply, the Sith pressed his foot harder into the seared flesh of Aaron's back. Half-crazed by now, the Padawan tried to pull free, but the… pain… was too much. A vicious hatred pumped through him. He wanted to claw this Togruta's heart out. He wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands. He wanted to slice the Sith's back wide open with his own saberstaff, just to show him what it felt like.

He deserved it.

But the… pain…

Aaron went limp beneath his adversary's foot. A fire flared hungrily within him, a flame that he could not control. Though his wound was almost numbing in its power, he didn't cry out again. Instead, Aaron channeled every ounce of fury within him. He carved the white-hot emotion into a weapon.

And he _used it_.

"I… _hate you_!" Aaron spat the words like embers. "I'll… _see you_… _**dead**_!"

"Tell me what I want to know, Sith spawn!" the Togruta screeched at him.

Aaron gasped. "I'm not… a Sith…"

…

Julia dropped all of the supply packs she was holding when she saw Thirty-nine tearing across the grass. Although his expression remained safely hidden in his helmet, the wild ripples in the Force immediately warned the Padawan that something had gone very awry.

"What's wrong?" Julia asked fearfully.

Thirty-nine took a deep breath. "One of those blasted Sith engaged Aaron. He said to run."

Julia's throat felt numb, but she spoke anyway, her voice cracking as she did. "Is he alright?"

The clone dodged her question. "He said to get you and run."

_He didn't answer me directly. _Now Julia knew that she was right. She could already picture Aaron, the color in his face sucked away, his body lying cold, limp… like her Master, like Sparky… _Not Aaron! Not him, too!_

"No, no!" Julia shrieked in denial. "I won't let him –"

Thirty-nine seized her by the arm in an iron grip. "Padawan," he said bluntly, "he said to get out of here."

"And I said no." Julia wrenched her arm free and broke into a sprint. "Stay here!" she called behind her.

"You'll get yourself killed!" Thirty-nine shouted. "Get back here! Are you insane?"

Too late. She was already gone.

…

Not a Sith?

Aaron's words caught the Togruta off guard. "You're a liar," he snarled. "Tell me what I want to know, or you'll be a dead liar."

"I'm _not _a Sith," Aaron repeated. "Listen to me. I'm a Padawan. I don't know what the heck you are, but you don't have to kill me!"

"Then answer my questions!" the Togruta raged. "Who's with you? How many clones?"

"I don't know how many. But they all want to kill us. Except Thirty-nine. He's on our side. He's with Julia, she's a Padawan like me. We're just trying to survive. If you're here to fight Sith, you made a mistake!"

"Lies!" The Togruta raised his saberstaff, stepping off of Aaron's back. "It's clear you won't tell me anything. So I guess I'll have to kill you." He put both hands on the hilt of his blade, and then he swung down.

Aaron closed his eyes. He was surprised for a second, because his life wasn't flashing before his eyes, and that was supposed to happen when someone died. This was his last stand, but there was nothing. Just acceptance. Because he couldn't change this, no matter how hard he tried.

There was a loud buzz, ringing in Aaron's ears, as the blade moved to impale him.

"Stop!" someone cried.

An explosive blast of Force energy cannoned forward, and the Togruta flew through the air several yards, collapsing into a heap on the grass. Opening his eyes, Aaron looked up to see what had happened. Then he gasped in shock.

Julia stood over him, her electric blue lightsaber ignited. "Get. Away. From him."

…

_**A/N: **_Yep. So here it is – the next chapter.

Now, for a random fact. I've decided that the song "Rebirthing" by Skillet (an epic Christian band) is essentially the theme for this story. I used to think that "Awake and Alive" (also by Skillet) was perfect for this story, until I heard "Rebirthing", which works even better. I suggest you look the song up on iTunes or something, because I heard it, and bought it, and well, it's just plain awesome. Also, the song "Inseparable" by Jonas Brothers is essentially the only reason that Chapter XII: Dead or Alive panned out how it did. I never planned that scene, but I was listening to music one day, and I played that song, and I saw the scene in my head. And "tada!" I wrote it.

Lately, music really helps me write. If my iPod dies, I'll never finish this story. :P

If any of you fellow FanFic authors like music for when you write, I recommend the album on iTunes titled "Trailerhead" by "Immediate". Just search "Immediate" and you'll find it. It is the most epic collection of instrumentals I have ever seen (well, heard.)

Anyway, I know you probably don't care about any of that nonsense. Back to the point – what do you think of this chapter? Please review, but no flames. Seriously. Don't you people have something better to do than leave nasty, hurtful comments on random people's stories? Just saying…

If you want to review (and I love it when you do!) then refrain from flames. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	16. Chapter XV: Where Loyalties Lie

_**Chapter XV: Where Loyalties Lie**_

The Togruta took a sharp breath. "_Two _Dark Jedi?" he rasped. "But… how…?"

"What are you here for?" Julia hissed.

"That's not really the question, now is it?" Sarcasm slithered into the warrior's tone. "I think the real concern is what _you _are doing here with one of _them_." Propping himself up on one elbow, the Togruta pointed one claw behind Julia.

The Padawan turned, panic seizing her when she saw Thirty-nine. "I… I told you to stay where you were," she stammered. "Get out of here before –"

"And let the both of you go charging off to your eternal reunion with the Force?" the clone snorted. "Forget it!"

Julia opened her mouth to counter him, but words failed her. "Then stay," she said. Almost pleadingly.

"Enough of this." The Togruta shakily rose to his feet, raising his lightsaber. He wasn't finished yet. "If you aren't Sith, as your friend has claimed" – he pointed the saberstaff at Aaron – "then why is that blasted clone with you?"

"Watch your language," Thirty-nine warned. He took a step forward, raising his gun, but Julia firmly stopped him with an outstretched arm.

Looking straight at her enemy, Julia slowly said, "Thirty-nine is with us."

The warrior didn't flinch for even a moment. "A captive?" he pushed.

"No. An ally, and a friend. He's not like the others."

"Do you take me for a fool?" the warrior snarled, baring his teeth – an instinctive response for a predatory Togruta. His fangs glowed a pale yellow in the light of his blade. "Every one of the clones took the Chancellor's order quite seriously. It's awfully insulting that you expect me to believe you."

Ever so casually, the Togruta began to saunter towards Julia.

Aaron groaned. He tried to pull himself up from the ground, but collapsed once again, lying immobile at his fellow Padawan's feet. "Get out of here!" he coughed.

Julia froze, arguing with herself. She stared at Aaron – wounded, no doubt bleeding Aaron. He was dying. Dying. He would die if she left him. He would be alone if she left him, after saving her life, he would die. And she would leave him to that fate?

Julia swallowed, seeming to come to a decision. "Thirty-nine, guard him."

Thirty-nine stepped in front of Aaron, his blaster at the ready. The soldier fought back a shiver. Did Julia really think that one clone would do any good against the Sith? _That's it. She's finally snapped._

Aaron watched the Togruta's approach. No doubt, he was thinking the same thing as his protector. Their adversary was getting nearer and nearer by the second.

Julia nervously held up a hand. "Don't come any closer," she entreated. "I don't want to fight you. I promise you, we are not Sith. And I'll prove it to you."

Julia dropped her lightsaber. It landed in the grass with a soft thud.

"Julia, no!" Aaron protested.

Thirty-nine gasped. "Padawan…"

Julia put her hands in the air, paying no heed to the rebuke of her allies. "See?" she said to the Togruta. "I'm not your enemy."

The warrior froze where he stood. A speechless disbelief colored his expression. Unsure of what to do, he twirled his lightsaber erratically as a warning sign.

"I don't want to hurt you," Julia repeated.

"I do," Thirty-nine mumbled under his breath.

Julia shot him a glare like a laser. _He really isn't helping. _She turned back to the Togruta. "I'm unarmed," she went on. "You could run me through right now.. But you don't have to."

Julia took a step forward and began to walk towards her stunned would-be-attacker. He still hadn't moved. His knuckles whitened as he tightened his hold on his lightsaber.

"I'm a Padawan," Julia said as she came closer. "I'm a Jedi. I don't want to fight."

There were only inches between them now.

"Please," Julia pleaded. She stared directly into the bloodshot eyes. "I'm telling the truth. Believe me." She stopped walking, suppressing the desire to turn and run, stifling the urge to seize her lightsaber and ignite it.

She was right in front of the warrior. He could kill her in a heartbeat.

There was a minute of complete wordlessness. The Togruta's red eyes looked hard on Julia's face, examine every detail of her expression for some sign of deceit. Julia silently prayed, _Living Force, let him believe me._

And the Togruta deactivated his saberstaff.

Julia heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

The warrior returned his weapon to his belt. "I apologize," he said. "The clone was misleading. You ought to be more careful. And your friend…" He looked at Aaron, who was still sprawled out on the ground. "During our duel, his Force signature was quite consistent with what I've seen from Sith."

Julia was a bit shocked at that. Her eyes widened.

"Enough of this," the Togruta added quickly. "We had some misunderstanding. Let's put this behind us." He extended a hand. "I'm Kherev Ra'shah. I'm a Jedi Knight."

Julia took the hand and shook it. "I'm Julia Star. I'm a Padawan, as I said. He's Aaron Earthshaker, also a Padawan."

"And the clone?"

"He's Thirty-nine."

Now it was Kherev's turn to be surprised. "He doesn't have a name?"

Julia looked down. "No," she confessed.

"Well, I guess I might have misjudged him. Although I can hardly say I had reason to expect much else from his kind." Kherev approached Thirty-nine for a handshake. "I thought the clones had all lost their minds," he laughed. "It's nice to know you're not all axul fodder."

With a growl, Thirty-nine shook Kherev's hand so roughly, the Togruta drew back, rubbing his arm. _Ouch_, he thought. _Quite a welcome._

"Uh… you kind of missed the 'Sith spawn' down here," Aaron moaned.

Kherev looked down at the injured Padawan. "I should be able to heal that wound," he offered. "Or at least speed the natural process. But first we have to find somewhere safe." He turned to Julia. "Do you have shelter?"

"Yes," Thirty-nine answered for her.

Julia retrieved her lightsaber from the ground. "Aaron, can you walk?"

He gave her a look of unmistakable annoyance. "Are you _kidding me_?"

"Fine," Julia said. "I'll carry the supplies we stole earlier. Kherev, can you help me?"

The Togruta nodded.

"Thirty-nine you'll have to carry Aaron," Julia concluded.

"Whatever," the clone agreed. "Let's get out of here."

…

Things improved once they made it back to the cave. Tensions began to ease, and they were able to begin formulating a plan.

Aaron was disappointed to hear that Kherev's stolen ARC-170 had experienced some technical issues. The Togruta had fled from his home planet, Shili, in a panic, hoping to hide in the Outer Rim until the chaos of Order 66 passed. Of course, Ryisyyyk was the most remote planet he could think of. Unfortunately, immediately after his arrival, the ARC-170's hyperdrive suddenly blew. It was damaged beyond repair, thus making the ship utterly useless.

And there was another shock.

Moments after coming out of hyperspace, Kherev had noticed another ARC-170 only a few yards away. In seconds, he received a message over the fighter's comlink, requesting identification. It was the voice of a clone.

Now, Thirty-nine and Julia gasped when they realized that what they had thought was a clone had indeed been a friend.

Kherev, however, had attacked them. Hearing Thirty-nine's voice had assured the Jedi Knight that these were his enemies. He fired on the soldier and Padawan… thus leading to Aaron's rescue of Julia and Thirty-nine. And now, the three Jedi had finally managed to make peace.

They would have to steal another pair of ARC-170s from the Republic base here on Ryisyyyk. Thankfully, with their newfound alliance, it seemed quite feasible.

But first, Aaron needed to recover from his wound.

"Is it… working?" the Padawan panted. He looked questioningly at the Togruta, who was kneeling beside him.

"Please don't break my focus, Aaron."

Kherev closed his eyes, trying to dissolve into a state of serenity. He loosened his hold on the passions of the moment, allowing his focus to broaden, swell, expand, extending beyond the seen to the unseen. He searched past emotion, past desire, reaching up and over to touch something more real, more alive, than the physical.

A tingling sensation spread through Kherev. _I feel something, _he thought, but the instant that he acknowledged it, his connection wavered, nearly snapping. _Clear your mind, _he told himself. _Don't think. Feel. _He closed his eyes more tightly, letting the lack of sight encourage him not to rely on that – or any of his other senses, for that matter.

_Feel, Kherev. Don't see._

Julia gasped as Kherev's palm began to faintly glow. Thirty-nine shot her a questioning look, baffled as to how the Togruta was accomplishing such a thing. Julia mouthed, "I don't know."

The glow became brighter, a pale, otherworldly blue on Kherev's orange hand. Carefully, he reached out and placed his palm on Aaron's injured back. In response to the touch, the Padawan gritted his teeth.

But then – a soothing feeling.

Something between cold and heat began to penetrate Aaron's injury. The light grew still more intense, illuminating the cave walls. Suddenly, it flowed out of Kherev's hand in vein-like strands, and Aaron's wound was glowing. Thirty-nine gaped in awe.

Kherev tensed, his breathing growing labored as he struggled to keep his focus. His other hand – the one that wasn't glowing – clenched into a fist.

And then the light was gone.

Kherev's every muscle, though they were rigid only moments before, seemed to give out. He fell forward on his hands, like he felt sick. His shoulders heaved. He opened his eyes, and they were distant, detached.

Julia knelt down beside the Togruta. "Kherev, are you alright?"

"I'm fine; just give me a moment, please." Kherev inhaled, trembling. "I'm fine," he repeated. Everything spun, as if a giant hand had taken the cave and twirled it like a top.

Aaron sat up. He reached back and touched his injury – without wincing. "How did you do that?" he gasped.

"Did it work?" Thirty-nine interjected. "Aaron, can you stand?"

Aaron placed one hand against the cave wall, slowly pulling himself up. Soon, he was on his feet. The pain in his back had become little more than a dull ache. "Kherev," he shouted, "what the heck did you do?"

"It still hurts?" the Togruta asked as he stumbled to his feet.

"No!" Aaron yelled. "It… you healed it. It doesn't hurt much anymore, at all. How did you do that?"

"Force Healing," Kherev explained.

Julia shook her head, perplexed. "What?"

"It's a rare ability," Kherev clarified. "Rumor has it that only those who start Jedi training early will be able to hone the natural spark. And only a few Jedi are capable."

"So you're gifted?" Aaron asked.

"You could say that." The Togruta grinned. "I've gotten a lot of attention for it, not to mention a lot of respect."

"And you started training young?" Aaron pressed, taking a seat on a stone by the wall.

"I was just a little boy when the Jedi found me," Kherev replied. "But even as a child, I knew I was more than just another son of the Bear Clan."

The Jedi Knight took a seat on the floor beside Aaron and went on, "My father, Sai Ra'shah, knew I would become a warrior. I was too little for a real fight, but I was already past average at swordplay for my age. And I wanted to hunt – even if I was half the height of my elders."

"But you weren't allowed," Julia inferred.

"Obviously," Kherev said. "But I wanted to be someone. I wanted to make something of myself."

Aaron was curious by now. "How did the Jedi find you?"

"Jedi Master Lora Kii was a friend of my father. She was a human, not a Togruta, but she was a friend of our people. She was delivering supplies across Shili, and we ran into each other. She sensed my potential, even in my youth. So she took me to the Temple."

"Where she led you to Knighthood," Aaron concluded.

"Yes." Kherev looked away. "I trust my people will not fail her now."

"You expect them to protect her?" Julia gasped.

"She has advocated them in this war. They would be cowards not to return the favor."

"War is full of surprises," Thirty-nine said. "Throw some blood at them, kill a few innocents, and men turn into cowards."

Kherev's eyes were daggers. "Are you suggesting that my own tribe would betray me, like your so-called brothers?"

Thirty-nine stared at him. "My brothers –"

"Do you dare," Kherev said as he stood, "to question my honor? We are warriors, unlike you sorry excuses for soldiers."

Rising to his feet, Thirty-nine balled one hand into a fist. "One more word… and I'll punch you right back to your village."

"_Stop_!" Julia cried, and stepped between them. "I've had it with the arguing. And I'm tired of playing peacekeeper." She stared at Kherev. "You tried to kill us. You insulted our only ally. I don't see why we should trust you."

Thirty-nine nodded in agreement.

Aaron, on the other hand, spoke not a word. He was too distracted by the fact that the "us" Julia had referred to meant _them_. She and him. They were a team in her mind. An "us".

Kherev cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to cause chaos. I'm on your side, simple as that. And I healed Aaron, so that point is useless."

"Just watch yourself," Julia countered. "We don't need you. But you would be very vulnerable if we left you alone."

"I was under the impression that you wanted strength in numbers," Kherev retorted.

"We can do without you," Aaron growled.

"Kherev's eyes moved from him to Julia to Thirty-nine. "Well," he eventually said, "there's no need to oust me just yet. Let's keep the peace. I'd hate to see us get killed because we couldn't get along."

"Good point," Julia admitted reluctantly. "Let's get some firewood before it gets dark. Thirty-nine, can you handle that?"

The clone grunted. His allies took that as a 'yes'.

"I say Kherev can keep watch for the night," Aaron added. "He _did _almost kill me."

The Togruta let out a lengthy sigh. "And so we are back where we started."

…

**A/N: **Just a little tidbit for you all. (Well, a few tidbits.)

First of all, not counting this chapter, "Why I Breathe" has reached 73 typed pages. The fact that you have continued to read this for that long just shows how awesome you are. Thank you!

Second of all, Kherev Ra'shah might sound like a Star-Wars-ish name, but it's actually the phonetic pronunciation of something in Hebrew. KHe-rev Rah-SHAH means "terrible sword" in Hebrew. That name was very intentional. I thought its secret meaning fit his character.

Also, I have the next chapter pretty much complete, already. But it should be a while before I actually type it out.

THANKS AGAIN FOR READING! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! This story has become very special to me and I'm very glad to have readers. I could go on and on about the individual characters. If I had a million dollars, I would make an epic fan film! I seriously hear these characters' voices in my head. It's really crazy...

Anyway... Peace out. (And may the Force be with you.)

Oh! And I almost forgot. MasterJessie, if you liked Trailerhead, look up Trailerhead: Saga. I bought six of the songs and they rock!

Okay, I'm done. Goodbye for now!


	17. Chapter XVI: Eye of the Storm

_**Chapter XVI: Eye of the Storm**_

That night, Aaron Earthshaker found it difficult to sleep for two reasons. First, the controlled pain of his injury yet remained, and it was still pain, nonetheless. Second, Aaron found himself burning in his own flame.

Because he hated what he'd done.

He hated himself.

The memories seared him. The saberstaff had sliced down his back, and then… pain was all he knew. Pain. There he lay, unable to stand… he failed himself, failed to save _her_… The anguish consumed his mind. It was soon joined by fierce regret. And as these two twisted together, they evolved into a hideous fury that rose even above the pain in a torrent of blind hate.

That hate had broken Aaron. It had not been strength, but weakness. It made him deaf to reason or strategy, awakening a fervid appetite for bloodlust.

Like a Sith.

That was how Kherev had described it. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Aaron couldn't have put it better himself.

The Padawan rolled over, wincing when his back scraped against the hard rock of the cave floor. His muscled tightened, and he forced himself to slowly release the tension. He breathed deeply, deliberately.

A voice came from above, at the mouth of the cave. "Can't sleep?"

Aaron didn't even have to look to know who it was. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and laughed dryly. "You're seriously giving me déjà vu."

Julia shrugged. "So we traded places tonight?"

"Yeah," Aaron sighed. He managed a wry smile. "Now I'm the injured one."

"Is that why you're wide awake?"

Looking away, Aaron groaned in frustration. "My first battle scar, I guess. This one should leave a mark, 'Force Healing' or not." He rolled his eyes, sighed, and then looked back at Julia. "You saved us out there."

Julia stifled a shiver as it shot down her spine. "I did what I could."

"But how did you… ? Didn't you… ? _Ugh_!" Aaron punched the stone floor. That hurt his wrist, and he pulled it away, shaking it out. Turning back to Julia, he asked wearily, "How were you so calm?"

At that, Julia froze. She was like a ticking time bomb, abruptly serious and still.

"Master Merona was always… serene," Julia said. "At peace with her emotions. When I would panic, she was… _completely_ relaxed. She would think of a rational solution... because her mind would be clear as day. And she would clear her head and listen to the Force."

"And that's what you did?" Aaron pushed.

Julia took a sharp breath. "I tried," she said. "I so desperately wanted to play defense, but… I just… I had to let go and trust what really made sense. Kherev was no Sith. I just had to show him we weren't, either."

"I say you did that well enough," Aaron teased.

"Master Merona is proud of me, I hope." Julia paused, taking a deep breath. "I miss her," she added, and her voice cracked.

Aaron stood up and put a hand on Julia's shoulder. "I'm sure she's proud. I wish I was as good a person as you."

Julia stepped away from him quickly. "What are you talking about?"

Aaron stared at her, and suddenly, she could clearly see the inferno within him. Because a fire was alight in his eyes. "I… I couldn't think straight," he blurted out. "I hated Kherev, I was angry, and if I'd just stopped to think –"

Julia cut him off. "We all make mistakes."

"Mine… mine almost got you killed."

"But I'm alive."

"No thanks to me!"

"But you're not blind to what happened," Julia said. "You won't lose control again."

Aaron's voice dropped an octave. He stared at the wall, watching the shadows created by the flickering firelight. "I wanted… to kill him," he said quietly. "I wanted – to make him – suffer. I told myself… he deserved it. Because he wanted to kill _you_."

Julia bit her lip. "We're Jedi, Aaron."

"But it would have been justice."

"It's not our job to punish everything."

"But we're the peacekeepers!" Aaron shouted. He rose to his feet. "We're Jedi! Who else is going to give the Sith what they deserve?"

Julia swallowed. Her throat was dry. "Don't try to play God, Aaron."

Harsh surprise filled his voice. "You believe there's a god?"

"I don't know. But I know there's the Force, at least. Maybe that's all, but…" Julia's voice trailed off. "I think there's a god," she confessed. "There has to be. If there isn't, there's no hope. And if God is out there, Aaron, it's His job to punish. Not ours."

Aaron stared at Julia. "And if He doesn't?"

"He's God," Julia stated. "He will."

There was a long silence.

Aaron sat down against the wall, sighing. "I wish I thought like you."

"You just need some perspective," Julia encouraged.

Aaron grinned slightly, and then admitted, "You should really get some sleep. As much as I like talking to you… Thirty-nine is always out cold, and we just yak all night."

His fellow Padawan had to nod in agreement. It was late, and she had best get some rest.

Once she found a comfortable place on the floor, Julia Star hardly had time to think about anything before she was sound asleep.

…

They were all awakened by a massive explosion at exactly 6:00 the next morning. The ground shook angrily beneath them, and loose pebbles rained down from the ceiling of the cave. The loud _BOOM _was a startling wake-up call for Jedi and clone alike.

Julia froze, standing as still as a statue, too afraid to make herself move. Aaron leapt to full awareness almost instantly, jumped to his feet, and without hesitation, he tore out to see the threat for himself. Thirty-nine screamed, "Stop!" When Aaron didn't respond, the clone seized his blaster and helmet and raced after him. Left alone, Julia found herself and broke into a run.

Outside, all three of them met Kherev. What they saw next surprised them all. They stood staring, dumbfounded, at the ruined, smoking, flaming mess in the distance.

Kherev spoke first. "Who could have pulled that off?"

Julia shook her head, not quite believing her eyes. The destruction she beheld, without a doubt, was – or rather, had once been – the Republic base of Ryisyyyk.

"Rach'ta could never do that alone," Aaron said. "But who else would… who else _could _have…?"

Kherev didn't answer. The silence weighed down on them.

Thirty-nine was staring at the fire in the distance, his expression totally blank. "They blew it up," he stated. There was no emotion in his voice – just dry, colorless observation.

"_What_?" Kherev spat.

The flames reflected on Thirty-nine's T-visor. "They _blew it up_!" he repeated, still glaring at the mangled heap of debris.

Julia interjected, "But why would they –"

"_Someone_ doesn't want us hijacking another ARC-170," the clone said, as if it were obvious. "So they blew it up themselves. They _torched_ the whole _blasted _hangar!"

"But that means they can't leave the planet!" Aaron objected.

"Foolishness," Kherev agreed.

"They don't care," Thirty-nine insisted. "They do what they're told is right."

"To the point of suicide?" Kherev protested.

Thirty-nine did not gratify him with an answer. Instead, he turned his attention back to the blaze, watching the smoke rise into the clear sky.

The Republic base burned like a funeral pyre. Its silent stand sent a clear message.

_We hate you. We have you more than you know. And we will do anything – _anything – _that we have to. We will die to see you dead._

For countless minutes, the four fugitives only watched the flames chew on the ruins of metal and durasteel, snaking up like serpents licking at the sunrise.

…

The _Shadow _arrived with friends – two Republic cruisers, flanking the craft on either side. Darksaber stood in the cockpit of his ship and looked out over the timeless serenity of Ryisyyyk. He thought back on the series of events that had brought him here. Brought him home.

He had never wanted to come back.

"Darksaber, my Lord," called a clone as he approached the bridge. "All systems are running at optimum capacity, sir. We are prepared to begin the descent."

**"Good,"** Darksaber replied without turning around. **"Inform the commanders to begin landing their troops."**

The soldier nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned to leave.

**"Wait,"** Darksaber growled, and it sounded like a threat. **"Also tell them that the army is not to camp in the caves."**

"But, my Lord –"

**"Are your ears dull, soldier?"** Darksaber wheeled in a rage, igniting his lightsaber. **"The first man to set foot in those caves will die by my blade. Have I made myself clear?"**

"Y-y-yes, sir."

Darksaber turned away, staring absently out the window, as before. **"Get out,"** he said.

The clone half-ran from the cockpit.

Darksaber stood perfectly still, watching the planet below with unwavering eyes. **"Father,"** he whispered, **"I will preserve your honor. I will cleanse the Jedi from our land."**

**_And once they are fallen, _**he vowed,**_ I am never returning here._**

…

Rach'ta Zian had seen many an invasion during his years of serving in the Clone Wars, but there was something about the _Shadow _that gave him chills. It landed with authority, accompanied by the twin Republic cruisers. Though it was smaller than they, it was clearly the leader.

Rach'ta struggled to slow his breathing. _Don't be a fool and get yourself killed, _he thought as he surreptitiously peeked out from behind a rock. _At least I'm green. I blend in with the grass. _He crouched low, his heart beating out a nervous rhythm.

The _Shadow's _ramp camp down and the Twi'lek watched anxiously as a cloaked figure emerged. The warrior descended slowly, and the clones marched out behind him. Rach'ta absently noted, _They certainly grant him plenty of space._

And it was no wonder why. A dark power radiated from this shadowy villain, sending fresh shivers through the Padawan. He wanted to flee – that would be the rational thing to do – but he found himself transfixed.

At the edge of the ramp, the cloaked warrior stopped in his tracks.

"My Lord?" questioned one of his clones. "Is everything alright?"

**"Spread out,"** the Sith instructed – for he was, without a doubt, a being well-versed in the ways of the Dark Side. **"I sense a Jedi in our presence."**

_They've spotted me! _Rach'ta mentally shouted. _I'm an ignorant child. I should have run while I still could._

The clones raised their blasters and began to fan out. "Be on your guard," a soldier said. "They can come from anywhere."

Rach'ta speeded through his options. Run? He'd be caught for sure. Fight? Then he'd be dealing with the Sith. Stay? Yes, he must stay. Concealment was his only hope.

The clones began to get closer. Rach'ta tried to crouch lower behind the stone, but the grass rustled as he moved.

"What's that?" a soldier asked.

"Nothing," said another.

"No. I heard something."

_I'm going to die here! _Rach'ta tried not to twitch, tried not to so much as breathe. _Don't let them find you…_

The clone approached, his fingers tight on the trigger of his DC-15. He was less than a yard from the Padawan, sauntering nearer and nearer. "I know I heard something…"

The Twi'lek fought back a gasp.

The clone leaned down. And then he saw Rach'ta, crouched low in a feeble attempt to hide, his yellow eyes brimming with panic. "Gotcha!" the soldier shouted. He was almost laughing, like this was all a big game of hide-and-seek. "Why, it's just a little –"

In a flash of verdant light, Rach'ta activated his lightsaber and swept it across the clone's chest. "Gwaa-aaah!" the soldier screamed, and then he collapsed.

"Stop him!" another clone ordered. He and his allies opened fire. Rach'ta rolled on his side, parrying the shots. Clambering to his feet, he broke into a sprint.

"Aaron!" Rach'ta yelled, hoping, praying he was somewhere close. "Aaron!" _I shouldn't have left him, I shouldn't have, I shouldn't have…_

One of the blaster bolts grazed the Twi'lek's shoulder. He stumbled. _Run, Rach'ta! Run for your life! _With a groan, he recovered and continued to flee. The grass flew by beneath his feet. Every deafening beat of his heart marked another second gone by – another second that they could catch up, that they could kill him. He might have only seconds.

And the seconds were running out.

His breathing ragged, Rach'ta forced his muscles to their limit. He could hear his attackers yelling behind him, and the crunching of their armored feet in the dirt as they pursued him.

"Shoot him down!" a clone commanded.

A volley of shots came after Rach'ta. He deflected them as he ran. _This is too close for comfort! _"Aaron, it's me!" he wailed. "Help! Please!" He gasped. "I'm sorry I left! Help me, please! _Please_!"

The blaster fire grew heavier. Rach'ta started to zigzag – anything to dodge the assault. A single shot struck the back of his knee, and he tripped over his own feet.

He staggered.

Rach'ta's mouth opened in a scream that wouldn't come. His eyes became a watery, almost reptilian shade, glazed with pain. _I can't stand. _The realization totally crippled him. _I can't stand! _His wound throbbing, his heart racing wildly out of his control, the Twi'lek began to crawl, his injured leg dragging behind him.

One of the clones caught up and stepped down on the edge of Rach'ta's Jedi robe. "Don't try to run, Jedi." He aimed his gun, and the barrel was inches from the Twi'lek's head.

With a cry of defiance, Rach'ta pulled free of his Padawan robe. It slipped off, and the Twi'lek forced himself to his feet and began to run – no, limp. Now he was clad only in his pajamas – the pajamas he had refused to take off in his adamant insistence that Aaron's vision of betrayal was merely a dream.

There was a hole in the blue, flannel pants where Rach'ta's knee had been shot.

_Run, _he thought detachedly, resisting his pain. _Be a Jedi, suck it up, and run!_

Suddenly, the Twi'lek's feet were no longer on the ground. He flailed crazily. _What the heck is happening to me? _Then he gasped. _The Sith… no, not… I can't…_

The cloaked warrior walked slowly towards Rach'ta with one of his gloved hands raised, suspending the Padawan in the air. **"Tell me, boy. Where is Aaron Earthshaker?"**

Rach'ta glowered at his captor. "I don't talk to Separatists."

**"The Separatists are dead men. ****Tell _me_, where is Aaron?"**

_Play dumb... _Rach'ta thought blankly. _Pretend not to understand. _The Twi'lek coughed. "A Jedi," he croaked.

**"Where is he?"** the Sith repeated in a low growl.

Rach'ta struggled to take in air. His fingers pulled at his neck, fighting hands that weren't there. "I don't know," he mumbled. _Even if I did… I wouldn't… tell you…_

**"That's a shame."** The warrior began to close his hand into a fist. **"Perhaps you will tell me something else. Where is Julia Star?"**

Rach'ta clawed at the neck of his pajama shirt. "I… don't… know what…" he choked out, his voice trembling.

**"Where _is she_?"** the Sith bellowed.

The Padawan did not answer right away. He was silent, rasping. He was beginning to fade. His thoughts were incoherent, his vision disjointed.

"I… don't… know…"

**"Then I suppose you are not well acquainted with her,"** the monster murmured coolly. **"A blessing, truthfully. She shouldn't be too heartbroken when she finds you dead."**

With that, Darksaber drew his lightsaber and ignited it. The cylinder of black energy cut straight through Rach'ta heart as easily as a knife through butter. The Twi'lek began a scream – it came out in a long moan – but he never finished it.

The body of Rach'ta Zian went totally limp, the eyes staring at nothing, the mouth agape in a state of permanent shock.

Darksaber let the corpse fall to the dirt. He kicked it aside. Then he turned to the clones. **"Leave the body. The blood will rededicate this land to its rightful master."**

The soldiers nodded. "Yes, sir!" they chorused mechanically.

Rach'ta Zian, Twi'lek Padawan, received not a second glance. His empty eyes looked up at the sky.

…

_**A/N: **_Ok, I'm officially really weird. I write this story almost totally at night, usually between 10:00 and 11:00 PM, sometimes later, because I'm busy during the day. So, go figure. I kill Jedi when most everyone else is asleep. Go figure.

I have much, much more written than this – not typed, but written – easily another chapter, maybe two. I've also completed a one-shot that is 33 written pages. It's about Thirty-nine's past, and I think it turned out pretty good. Problem is… I have to type out and edit all of my work. It might be a while before that happens. The one-shot is at the bottom of my priority list; I wrote it because I was feeling a need to tell Thirty-nine's story, and I felt un-motivated to continue Why I Breathe. Now I've switched, and my focus is back to the main story.

Anyway, I'm warning you; I have action and romance ahead for you all. Hold on to your hats – or your Jedi robes, or your Sith cloaks, or whatever it is you people wear. ;)

Edit: accidentally forgot to put Darksaber's dialogue in bold. :P Went back and fixed it. Sorry!


	18. Chapter XVII: Revelations

_**Chapter XVII: Revelations**_

"Gaah!" Aaron yelled as Kherev brought the stick down on his shoulder. Had they been fighting with lightsabers, the swing would have disconnected his arm.

Kherev laughed. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to survive this manhunt," he teased, but there was a dismal overtone to his words.

Aaron needed to fight better than this, or he would get killed. And he'd leave _her _in the care of this smart-mouthed little –

"Let go of your anger," Kherev instructed. "You'll never learn anything with that clouding your mind."

"It's not as easy as you make it out," Aaron countered.

"Focus!" Kherev's weapon whipped through the air, towards the Padawan's leg. Having failed to anticipate this, Aaron clumsily whirled away, his footing unsure. He struck at the Togruta – but Kherev was already gone.

Aaron winced when the end of a stick jabbed into his back. He stumbled, gritting his teeth. "Watch it, Kherev."

"Right. Your wound," the Togruta remembered. "But you're missing the point. A lightsaber would have impaled you."

Aaron groaned. He looked over to Thirty-nine and Julia for support. The clone said nothing. But Julia sighed, "Give Aaron a break. We're going to be fighting together, anyway."

"He'll get his break." Kherev grinned mischievously. "You're next."

"I _can't wait_," Julia retorted.

"Alright, let's go again, Aaron." Kherev leaned into a ready stance. "Go on. 'Kill' me."

"Are you giving me permission to shut you up for good?" Aaron joked.

"Give it your best shot!"

"I won't lie. I've been waiting a while for permission."

And with that, Aaron leapt into the air, spun, and swung his stick down. Caught by surprise, Kherev ducked under the slash and sliced at his opponent's ankles. Aaron blocked in midair, and then landed solidly.

"Why are you so fixated with trying to cut off my legs?"

"Be quiet and fight." Kherev attempted a stabbing thrust, but Aaron stepped aside and threw a wild blow at the Togruta's head. As was to be expected, Kherev successfully blocked, spun away, and then came back with a flurry of attacks, trying to break down Aaron's resistance. But the Padawan had strength to spare.

So Kherev tried another approach. "Sloppy," he said. "Very sloppy." Aaron struck hard at his partner's side, but Kherev deflected it. Again. "I've met Younglings who fight better than that!"

With a growl, Aaron launched into a crazed, unpredictable hurricane of attacks. Kherev simply kept moving. _Good. Let him wear himself out. _The Togruta jumped, blocked, somersaulted, and flipped over Aaron. He went for the Padawan's neck, but Aaron ducked, causing Kherev to miss.

"If I were using my lightsaber," Kherev goaded, "you would be in pieces by now."

And that was 'the straw that broke the bantha's back,' so to speak. That was enough to send Aaron Earthshaker over the edge. The red haze trickled over his eyes, and Aaron launched himself headlong at the Togruta.

But Kherev had been waiting for something so reckless. He dropped to the grass, and Aaron flew right over him. Stunned, disoriented, the Padawan landed awkwardly. And then, in an instant, Kherev's stick met his neck.

"Dead," the Jedi Knight said with finality. "Decapitation."

Aaron stood up, shaken. _How in the world did he…?_

"You allowed your anger to take control," Kherev rebuked. "Anger is not the way of the Jedi."

Aaron seemed to stare through him. "And you're never angry?"

"Don't make this about me."

"Answer the question."

"I am a Jedi. Jedi are not inclined towards anger."

"And you weren't angry during our fight? At all?"

Kherev didn't waver. "Jedi don't give in to such emotions."

"Don't pretend we're superhuman, Kherev," Aaron said. "I think it's time you stopped judging everyone else for five minutes and took a long, hard look at yourself."

Kherev shook his head. Didn't anyone believe in him? Didn't anyone acknowledge who he was, what he could become? Or was Master Lora Kii his only supporter? Every time he tried to be of use, they just shot him down.

"I'm trying to make you stronger!" Kherev shouted. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Start with yourself." Aaron threw his makeshift weapon at the dirt. "I can guarantee you've been angry before."

Kherev stood wide-eyed while the Padawan walked away. As he passed Julia, Aaron muttered, "You're next."

"I think we're done for now," she said. Aaron continued to storm away, and she quickly rose to her feet and followed him. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know," he spat behind him.

"Aaron…" Julia hurried after him. "Wait!"

He broke into a sprint.

Once they were lost in the distance, Thirty-nine turned to Kherev. "You really should watch what you say around Aaron."

The Togruta stared at the emotionless helmet before him. It was hard to talk to someone that didn't seem to have a face. "You don't trust me either, do you?"

Thirty-nine looked away. "I've never liked tree-huggers much."

Kherev's eyes bulged. "_What_?"

"The Togruta have their whole 'connection to nature' nonsense, and all those weird traditions, and the whole 'we run around barefoot to _feel the universe_' thing, and… Heck, it drives me nuts."

Kherev glanced down at his bare feet. "Who _cares_?"

Thirty-nine shrugged. "Whatever."

…

"Stop!" Julia insisted. "Gosh, Aaron, you're acting insane. Look at me."

Aaron stopped running. Clenching both his hands into fists, he slowly turned around. "I swear, I'm going to kill Kherev in his sleep!"

"He's a little high-strung."

"A little?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, Aaron!" Julia put one hand on her hip. "I know he goes _on _and _on_, but its coming from a good place… I think."

"So you're on his side?"

"Of course not! But you have to realize where he's coming from. Like he said, he's just trying to…" Julia's voice trailed off. She wasn't looking at Aaron. Her eyes were focused on something in the distance. "What _is that_?" she gasped.

Aaron turned around, searching for the object in question.

Julia's eyes widened. She looked sickened. "Living Force," she prayed aloud, "please don't let it be…" And then Julia was running towards it.

Now Aaron saw what it was – and immediately wanted to puke.

The frail, almost colorless corpse of Jedi Padawan Rach'ta Zian was curled up in a fetal position in the grass, as if the Twi'lek were sleeping. And he was. Permanently.

The cause of his death was obvious. A black hole cut straight through where his heart must be, and blood had leaked out, staining his pajamas. His neck was twisted at a physically impossible angle, and it was clear that it had been broken. Snapped like a twig.

Julia thought two things in the next second. _Gosh, that must have hurt. _And then – _I could be next._

"Rach'ta," Aaron breathed.

"Whoever killed him did it with a lightsaber," Julia spluttered. "A Sith. And the only reason a Sith would be here…"

"They've found us," Aaron said. "We have to find Kherev – and Thirty-nine – now, before –"

"Come on!" Julia screamed, and she took off, Aaron trailing behind her.

…

**A/N: **So, yeah, this chapter was less than a full four pages, but I have a series of major scenes coming up. Stay with me, please… (laughter)

I wrote this scene _after _I wrote the following scene, it's all out of order, but hey, whatever, it worked out in the end, so I don' t care. Please review. Reviews are like birthday presents!

I've been treading on some risky ground in this story, lately, I must admit. Aaron and Julia's conversation about God unintentionally wrote itself. I'm a Christian, so I really wanted to include my own beliefs here in some fashion, even if Star Wars is governed by different rules. No offense is meant to atheists or otherwise.

As far as Thirty-nine's "tree-hugger" rant, that was just for fun. XD

Goodbye, for now. May the Force be with you all.


	19. Chapter XVIII: Teardrops

_** Chapter XVIII: Teardrops**_

Julia Star remembered a mission on Christophsis, long ago, when she and her strike team had braced for disaster. At least half of them were wounded. Some were dying.

Separated from the rest of their allies in the smoking rubble of a fallen city with commando droids on their trail and their rations perilously low, they had been forced to hide in the ruins, waiting for help. Hoping, praying they could hold out just a little bit longer, just a little bit longer.

It was like that now.

They had done all they could. They had stored their supplies in the back of the cave. Aaron had hurriedly informed his allies that a waterfall ran behind their refuge, so that they could actually hear the rushing water of the river through the cave's back wall. They hurried to the riverbank together, filling the containers from the rations with water. If they were forced to hide for an extended period of time, they would have what they needed to survive.

Thirty-nine cleaned his blaster in the river, ensuring that all of its unique modifications were fully functional. With his characteristic sarcasm, he asked, "Aren't you Jedi going to go meditate or something?"

"I've never liked meditating," Kherev snorted.

"And this isn't really the time, Thirty-nine," Aaron agreed.

Julia had nothing to say. Even if she had wanted to sit in the quietness and think, she didn't think that she was capable of collecting herself enough to do so.

When they left the riverbank, the sky began to thunder, as if the clouds were screaming a desperate warning down at them. By the time they had taken shelter in the cave, solemn teardrops of rain were pouring from the sky in torrents. Lightning flashed like cracks in the fabric of the world.

They had already gathered some wood – thankfully. It got dark fast, so they started the fire early.

It was far too dangerous to be outside. Before long, the rain was coming down in blinding sheets. Guard duty would have been useless, not to mention terribly unsafe, so Aaron reluctantly caught up on some much-needed sleep, at Kherev's insistence. The Togruta was also eager to have some rest, as was Thirty-nine.

But not Julia.

This was like a nightmare that she would never wake up from. A nightmare where she could only watch the storm. And wait.

Seconds. Minutes. An hour.

Waiting. Praying.

Staring numbly at the rain, listening to the thunder's roar.

And pleading. Pleading with God; the Force; the Universe. _Don't let me die, don't let me die…_ And then – _Don't let them take him_ _away from me._

Julia clenched her teeth and made a fist when she singled him out. _Living Force, get Aaron Earthshaker out of my head!_

Outside, another roll of thunder shook the moon and stars. Julia jumped at the noise, and then sighed; reminding herself that it was only a sound.

"You okay?" a droopy voice mumbled. It was Aaron, as always. Julia had assumed him to be out cold.

"I'm fine," she lied. "You sleep. You need your rest."

"'Kay." Aaron closed his eyes. Good thing he was half-asleep, because she was a miserable liar.

He was always so concerned about her, always so aware of her feelings. It made Julia feel… special. Valuable. But at the same time, it made her feel guilty. It made her feel like she was climbing over an invisible wall into forbidden territory.

Sometimes, Julia Star wanted to slap him – to wipe that sweet smile clean off his face – to find some fatal flaw with him that would make her detest his very guts.

But she couldn't.

That's not to say that Julia considered Aaron blameless. She had seen for herself his dark impulses, his private rage, his shadows, always just behind him. Haunting him.

But Julia knew he was _more _than that. He was more than a struggling Padawan; more than a misguided crusader; more than a bleeding soul and a headstrong boy and an arrogant teen with a one-track mind who thought he was strong enough to take on the world when he couldn't even reign in his own disorganized thought process.

He was _more _than that.

He was different. Amazingly different. More incredibly, unbelievably unique than any boy – Jedi or otherwise – that Julia had ever met.

Aaron was brave. A bit too brave for his own good, but as far as Julia was concerned, overconfidence was better than paralyzing fear. Aaron was totally willing to try anything, go anywhere, do anything, face anyone, to keep her safe.

He had never said so. At least, not directly.

Julia saw it in his eyes, in the way he would smile at everything she said, and then suddenly, at the first sign of danger, his chocolate-brown irises would blaze, and his muscles would tense, and he would race away to fight without a second thought. Julia felt it in his restless sleep, in the way he would glance at her late in the night with a tired gaze, as if he thought she might have disappeared. Julia heard it in his voice, in the way he would fumble for words around her, and laugh at her non-existent sense of humor.

Julia knew what it meant. Only now, faced with the potential end of all their lives, was she willing to admit it.

Aaron Earthshaker was in love with her.

It hadn't taken long, because there was a spark. Something had blossomed between them the very moment that they first locked eyes. There was _something_ _there_. And she knew she _needed _him to stay. She'd been through so much, been trampled, shattered, broken…

She needed Aaron, or she would fall apart.

He loved her. She _knew _he loved her. And she needed to choose it – or refuse it. But one way or another, she had to make up her mind.

Oh, it was wrong. It was all wrong!

She was terrified of this decision – but then again, wasn't she terrified of _everything_? She had seen too much betrayal; too many dissolved dreams; too many lies and empty promises.

She had seen too much death.

Julia fought against the stinging flashback. Zenna Merona was... she was gone – dead – vanished – and Julia had to get over it. She had to move on. But she was alone, now, drowning in the sound of the silence.

The rain had stopped. So had the thunder and lightning. All was silence. And the silence whispered, _now you are alone._

A scream tore out of Julia's lungs and wedged itself in her throat, fighting to get out. She tasted liquid on her tongue. She told herself it was sweat, but it tasted like salt.

_Am I really crying all over again?_

Julia released the scream. It was so _anguished_… she could hardly believe that the wail had come from her. It was the sound of a child who had been traumatized.

The cry startled Aaron. He jerked awake and looked up, searching for what had made the noise. And then he saw her, leaning on the cave wall, tears streaming from her eyes. Her face was contorted with sorrow that she could no longer suppress.

Aaron had one arm draped over her shoulder in seconds. Her weeping increased at his touch, and she hung her head in conflicted shame, trying to hide from him. She gasped through the tears.

"_Shhhhhhhhh_…" Aaron whispered, and his voice was soft against her skin.

"Aaron, stop," Julia whimpered.

Gently, his hand moved to her back. "It's alright," he said. "Please, talk to me." He met her eyes with a warm, soothing look that she couldn't take.

Julia inhaled, and the breath trembled in the back of her throat. "I can't… explain…"

"Just let it out."

"Aaron…"

"Talk to me, Julia."

"Just leave me alone!" she insisted, and stepped away from him.

"I can't." Aaron looked right at her, like he could read her thoughts.

"You _have to_," Julia snapped.

"Well… I won't. Not until you let me help."

"Oh, gosh…" Julia stifled the next river of tears. "I don't know… I don't know what I want…"

Aaron gripped her shoulders. "Julia, talk to me!"

She finally met his eyes. His were full of honest, sincere concern. Hers were wet and red. "Aaron, I can't let you keep doing this."

"Doing what?" he pressed.

"Doing… doing _this_!" she wailed, and pulled back from him again. "Playing the hero, trying to comfort me… Trying to protect me from the entire galaxy –"

"I don't want to see you killed!"

"We both know it's more than that," Julia said with finality. "I know what you feel for me, how you feel about _us_. But it's not… I can't…"

"You're wrong," Aaron stammered. "You feel the same way, you just won't admit it!"

"It isn't right," Julia blurted out. "We're Jedi! _You're _a Jedi! We're under the Code of the Jedi Order!"

"But this is different," Aaron protested. "You've felt it. I feel it now. You don't just _care _about me – it's more than that! You have feelings for me that you're running from."

Julia couldn't deny the truth of that. So she tried to dodge it, to avoid it, because she had to stop this – stop this _now _– before she succumbed, and everything caved in. She had to stop this before she let him into her heart, only to have him wrenched from her arms.

Just like everyone else she'd ever loved.

No! Not love! She couldn't _love _him, it was wrong, it was foolish…

"Aaron, I can't do this," Julia said weakly. "I can't…"

"_Shhhhhhh…_" he murmured. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Don't say a word."

Julia shivered when she felt his hand run slowly, carefully through her hair. His other hand moved across her shoulder, settling on the back of her neck, against her cold skin. She took a sharp breath, but she was too startled to speak.

The firelight danced wildly, scattering in bizarre patterns. The only sound was its low crackle – and their breathing.

Aaron's fingers combed through her blond tresses, and he began to lean slowly closer. His hand dropped away, brushing the side of her cheek, and then her hand was in his. He held it there, coming closer. His eyes were the color of cinnamon, looking intently into Julia's. His breath had a sweet scent to it, and it was warm, blowing a few stray hairs back from her face.

Aaron's lips were inches from hers. And then they met.

It was like a burst of starlight. A rush of unexpected emotion coursed through Julia, and suddenly, she couldn't remember why this was out of her comfort zone and not what she wanted and wrong. Because it was right. Perfectly right.

There was only him.

Aaron Earthshaker, rocking her world, his lips gently pressed to hers.

Without thinking, Julia allowed her arms to wrap around him. Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was the closest she'd ever been to him. Physically – and emotionally. And she felt safe here, more safe than she had ever felt anywhere else.

But then the reason –and the awful, suffocating fear – they rose up in a massive wave, flooding her mind.

Julia gasped. She tried to speak, but Aaron's mouth was pressed to hers, and she could not bring herself to pull away. Her heart beat faster, erratically, and she was sure that Aaron could feel it, they were so close.

Somehow, Julia made a small space between them, pushing against the muscles of his chest with one hand, so that he drew back, just a moment, but a moment long enough for her to cry, "Stop."

And he stopped.

Aaron recoiled like he'd been stung.

"_Aaron_!" A hideous fury reared up within Julia. Her fear was suddenly replaced by anger – and shame. "How could you _do that _to me?" she shrieked.

Aaron said, "You didn't stop me."

He was right about that. But she _couldn't _stop him. Her love – no, not _love_, something _else _– had overpowered her.

"Don't you… _ever_… touch me again," Julia said from between clenched teeth.

Agony filled Aaron's cinnamon eyes. "But you _do_ feel it. I knew you did, and _you_ know it. You _felt _it."

"_Goodnight_, Aaron Earthshaker." Julia glared at him. Then she stormed right past him, her hair blowing behind her as she ran from the cave.

Sith or no Sith, she would rather sleep outside tonight.

…

**A/N: **Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! He _kissed _her, he _kissed _her! I finally wrote a scene where they kissed!

Okay, sorry. I'm a little excited. I had planned this scene for later, but I decided to write it early, and it fit in so well here… and the narrative wrote itself… and, frankly, I'm in love with this scene. However, I have had virtually no exposure to romantic novels. (Just Twilight, which is kind of cheesy, at parts, to be honest.) Please tell me if the dialogue sounds ridiculous or fake. I want this to be emotional and authentic. Constructive criticism is encouraged in every aspect. If there are typing errors (why do they always reveal themselves _after _I publish?) then please tell me.

Please refrain from stupid, idiotic flaming, though. Really, don't you online jerks have something better to do with your lives than just leaving negative feedback on people's stories?

No offense is meant to you nice people. You are why I exist on Fan Fiction.

Anyway, may the Force be with you. Thanks for reading. Please review. More to come, I promise! :D


	20. Chapter XIX: The Storm Builds

_**Chapter XIX: The Storm Builds**_

Fifteen minutes, and Julia Star was calm enough to lie down and hope that sleep would descend. Half an hour – and she was carried away by dreams. The strangest dreams.

Dark mosaics of memories and fears, called up from their graves.

She saw Master Zenna Merona, frantically deflection her own clones' blaster fire. A shot struck her chest, and she collapsed. Julia reached to catch her, but she slipped through the Padawan's arms like fine dust, and then she was gone, and the crimson stone of the moon rippled, dissolving into sand.

The sand was rushing down in a cascade within a giant hourglass.

And Julia saw Sparky kicking and struggling in it, drowning. In hopeless resistance he reached for her, but she could not catch his outstretched arm in time. He was sucked under, and vanished from view.

The sand all around darkened from tan to gray, and then solidified into durasteel.

Julia was in a windowless room, the only light coming from her lightsaber. Its synthetic blue glow was unsettling in the loneliness, and she swung it back and forth, trying to find a way out – but instead, she saw Thirty-nine, clutching at his neck, writhing in the clutches of some horrible, invisible Sith. He howled; the sound was incoherent, but sounded like a garbled groan of "Help me..."

Running towards him, Julia caught the clone as he fell to his knees. "Breathe. _Breathe_!"

He breathed. One weak inhale. A quiet, shaky exhale. He rolled from her arms to the floor, lying limply on his side. He tried to pull himself up again. But he only twitched. Then he ceased to move, and ceased to breathe.

Before Julia could react, before the grief could even near her, a voice called from behind – "It's alright, I won't leave you" – and Julia turned and saw Aaron, still there, and she ran into his arms, and he held her as her tears poured out against his shoulder. She looked up at him, and his warm eyes looked back at her.

But then they weren't looking back at her.

They were looking _through _her, fixed on something beyond living sight, and Julia screamed and jerked away when his eyes rolled back into his head and she saw a crimson blade had pierced his chest and stopped his heart.

She wailed, "_No!_" The sound echoed madly, becoming an almost demonic chorus. The wall behind Aaron's body, in front of Julia, crashed open. And then she was sucked into the ice-cold, unrelenting black...

Julia opened her eyes with a start.

She sat up, running her hands through her hair. _Only a dream. _Julia blinked, and looked up, trying to stay calm – but saw, as real as ever, a stranger standing there.

No, this was not a stranger. It was... a perfect copy of _herself_, staring back at her with eyes brimming with terror. But the eyes weren't emerald like her eyes. They were a fierce, liquid gold.

The Other-Julia ignited her lightsaber. Although the hilt was identical to the one that Julia held, the blade was blood-red.

Absently spinning her lightsaber in a swift, catlike motion, the Other-Julia smiled pleasantly. "You are alone with me, now," she said. "You cannot hide from yourself." She opened her left hand, holding out a jagged shard of glass.

Julia reached for her belt, where her lightsaber should have been, but it was gone. She stared at the entity, frozen with strange, almost familial awe.

Julia trembled. "What are you?"

"The terror that you fear," the Other-Julia replied. "Look upon the glass," she whispered icily, "and know what you will become."

Still shaking for no logical reason, Julia took the shard of a mirror from the entity's pale hand. Julia looked upon her reflection.

And her eyes were flawless gold.

She collapsed in an explosion of white light. A crushing pain split her skull, and then it was lost. Everything vanished. The universe was deathly black...

Julia opened her eyes with a start.

_Only a dream, _she thought to herself. _Really just a dream, this time! _She pinched herself; it hurt. Thank God! She was awake.

She wondered if she would ever be able to sleep again.

**...**

The crack of dawn. A bloody sunrise lit the gray sky.

Darksaber had not slept at all. He arose from his meditation, (for this had been his activity all night,) and went to rouse his clones from their quarters in the nearest Republic cruiser.

Darksaber approached Hotshot's bunk with obvious disdain. **"Do you yet live, Commander?"**

Hotshot moaned and rolled over in his sleep. "I dunno..."

"**Rise, and prepare yourself!" **Darksaber roared, and he dug the toe of his boot into Hotshot's side.

"Gaaa-aah!" Hotshot awoke with an unpleasant jolt. "M-my Lord!" he stuttered, clambering to his feet. "Darksaber, s-s-sir, my deepest apologies. Has something gone wrong?"

Darksaber motioned to the clone. **"Come with me, Commander." **Hotshot obeyed, and the warrior led him outside. After a moment of tense silence, he asked, **"Look at the sky, and tell me what you see."**

Hotshot said, "The sun."

Darksaber didn't even meet his eyes. **"Do you know what **_**I **_**see?"**

"What, sir?"

"**I see it is morning." **Darksaber turned his head just enough to glower at Hotshot. "**And I see an unreliable clone who wants to sleep through the day."**

"Darksaber, sir, I... I will do n-nothing of the sort!" Hotshot spluttered. "Is there anything you would like me to do?"

Darksaber ignored his question, staring distantly at the sunrise. **"Today is not a time for games," **he said slowly,** "and I will not tolerate any further failures on your part. I have no time for the likes of you. You will do what you were created for, or I will end your pointless existence myself.**

"**Now go. Prepare the army. The Jedi have long been blind, unaware of the iron fist of the coming Empire. But at last the time has come. And of course, I would so hate to keep the Jedi waiting." **

There was a ghost of a smile in Darksaber's voice.

"**We will throw their pride in their faces," **he concluded.** "And I will take back what is mine."**

**A/N: **Sorry this is painfully short like the beginning chapters. I have more to come, so have no fear. But I had less than an hour and a half to type tonight, so this was all I could manage, and I thought I might as well publish it.

I have a major scene coming very soon – the very scene, in fact, which sparked this entire FanFic. I conceived a scene involving Julia and Darksaber before either had names. I had this concept of a black-robed Sith (who at the time had a red lightsaber) and a blond Padawan girl (who at the time had blue eyes)... I will say no more. Keep reading to find out!

(If there are typing errors, I apologize, and I will send my personal bounty hunter to kill them for you, that they may cease to haunt my writing.)

Also, a quick update: the download/backup edition of this FanFic, (when pasted into Microsoft Word,) is 102 pages.

I cannot believe I did this in my free time...


	21. Chapter XX: Battle Lines

_** Chapter XX: Battle Lines**_

A heinous muddle of oppressive knowledge gripped Kherev Ra'shah like the jaws of a Krayt dragon as the distinct vision beneath his closed lids withdrew. He moved like lightning, jumping to his feet, his eyes open now, wide and disconnected. He took in the suddenly alien landscape around him. The unfamiliar walls slowly registered as the walls of a cave; a cave on Ryisyyyk; the cave where they were hiding from the Sith –

His survival instinct kicked in: a remnant of his brief childhood in the Bear Clan of Shili. He launched into a controlled run, his strides long like a cheetah's. He was soon out of the cave, bathed in sunlight, but he did not slow; his eyes darted about in a confused, erratic motion, until at last they found the Togruta's allies and settled on Aaron. Kherev sprinted towards him, skidding to a sharp halt, and gripped his shoulder _hard_; so hard, that Aaron could feel the Jedi Knight's fingernails digging through his robe, down to the skin beneath.

Aaron turned and did a double take. The stoic, controlled expression that usually washed Kherev's face clean of emotion had been replaced by a raw panic. His forehead glistened with sweat, as did his head-tails and montrals. His irises were bright red – something that Aaron was beginning to recognize as a sign of stress in the Togruta.

Aaron's voice spoke for him before he could collect himself. "What happened?"

Kherev's throat was dry. "I saw something," he said in a tight, hoarse growl. "I believe it was a vision."

At that, Thirty-nine snorted and looked away. He had no respect for the vague premonitions of Jedi magicians. Dreams were dreams, unworthy of the significance that the Jedi seemed to ascribe to everything.

Julia, on the other hand, knew the power of visions, and she was not about to start doubting them in these dire times, when they needed premonitions more than ever. She gripped Aaron's arm with sudden urgency, as if to say, _Stay calm. _

Aaron felt his heart pound as he recalled his own vision: a vision that he had understood all too late. He could see it all now, as vivid as if it were happening all over again – Alk's fading gasp; Rach'ta's yell of denial; the anger that had sizzled across his own flesh...

Aaron screamed, "What did you see, Kherev?"

"The Sith," Kherev said. He dropped the two words like plasma mines.

"Here?" Aaron pressed.

"Yes!"

"Nearby?"

"I don't know!" Kherev ground his teeth together. "He was talking to a clone, called... called..." Kherev squeezed his eyes closed. "...Hotshot..."

"My _commander_?" Thirty-nine wheeled around like he was ready to kill someone. "How in the galaxy did you –"

"I have no idea!" Kherev screeched. "But your commanderwas with the _Sith_. And he's coming after us: today!"

"The clones or the Sith?" Aaron asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Kherev bit his lip so hard it bled. "Both."

Aaron's gut felt hollow. His legs felt locked in place, his bones like cold durasteel. "You're sure?" his voice said, but it felt like it came from someone else.

"Positive," Kherev said. "Now stop your babbling and get to the cave. _Now_!"

**...**

Darksaber's strike force marched towards the gray-misted mountain range of Ryisyyyk in perfect formation.

"**Spread out," **he ordered. **"Search anywhere that may be providing concealment for Padawan Earthshaker, and kill him. But be sure to bring his body to me when the deed is done. In pieces, if you must."**

"And the woman?" muttered one of the clones.

"**Padawan Star is not a woman, but a child, and a child eaten alive by her own fear. I will finish her myself."**

The clone nodded. "Yes, sir."

Darksaber turned his attention to the rest of the soldiers before him. **"Spread out! Leave no crevice unsearched." **The warrior made a fist. **"Time is of the essence."**

The clones nodded. They obeyed their orders to the letter, breaking off into individual squads. But when Hotshot's _Phoenix Squad _turned to go, Darksaber stopped them.

"**You will come with me. I desire that you witness exactly how the Dark Side punishes its enemies."**

"Forgive me, my Lord," Hotshot asked, a nervous shake in his voice, "but you know the location of the Jedi?"

"**I know the whereabouts of the girl," **Darksaber snarled. **"The traitorous clone will likely be with her. It is Aaron Earthshaker that may prolong our stay on this planet, according to the Emperor's instructions to me."**

"Thank you, sir."

"**Now that is quite enough of your idle curiosity." **Darksaber motioned to _Phoenix Squad_. **"Follow me," **he said, and began to move towards a specific cave in the distance.

Hotshot nearly shuddered at how well their master seemed to know his way. But he did not ask any further questions.

_Questions get you killed._

**...**

The trio of Jedi (and Thirty-nine, as well) were far back in the cave, and entirely silent– so silent, in fact, it was as though they had already accepted their own deaths. There was a kind of brutal serenity about them that they had all felt before, more than once – a sense that the end was imminent, but could perhaps, _maybe_, be beaten back for a time.

_Really, _Aaron reflected, _I've felt like this much too often, lately._

Suddenly, there were voices at the mouth of the cave. From deep inside the tunnel, Julia struggled to catch the words, as did her allies.

"Is this it, my Lord?" said a distant voice identical to Thirty-nine's.

"**Yes. She is here," **roared another voice. A voice that must belong to the Sith.

Thirty-nine white-knuckled his gun. Aaron and Kherev quietly stood, seizing their lightsabers, ready to activate them. Julia didn't move even a fraction of an inch. If she lost her self-control, she knew that she would give them all away.

The Sith continued, **"I will enter first. Do not fire until I tell you."**

And then there were footsteps.

"They'll box us in," Aaron mouthed.

Kherev nodded gravely. Thirty-nine flipped open the targeting scope of his blaster. At last, Julia stood up, slowly, and grasped the hilt of her lightsaber.

"It's pitch black in here," said a clone.

"Use your night vision, Droid-bait!" another instructed.

"Right..." Droid-bait sighed. "Everyone: night vision, _on_."

There was a low murmur of electronic devices being activated.

"I don't see the Jedi," said a clone's voice.

Carefully, methodically, Julia shifted her balance, raising her lightsaber hilt to a ready stance.

"Hey, wait!" a clone's voice called. "What's that over there?"

Kherev nodded to his allies and mouthed, _Now._

In seconds, there was a flash of deep blue light – Aaron's lightsaber – immediately pursued by a burst of vivid, electric blue that was the sword of Julia Star. Then there was a brighter flash of muted yellow: Kherev's saberstaff.

Blinded for a single moment too long, the nearest clones stumbled. Kherev sent a wave of the Force in their direction, and they flew back like cardboard from the impact. One landed so hard, his helmet's visor cracked. Neither he nor the others stood up.

"_Three _Jedi?" a soldier gasped. "But there was only supposed to be –"

"**Take them down!" **the Sith roared from the cave's entrance.

Blasterfire exploded, ricocheting in the confined space. Red, blue, and yellow light illuminated the blackness with rapidly changing patterns. Clones were cut down left and right – some impaled, others beheaded, a few struck cleanly across the chest.

Kherev leapt between the walls, a red-orange blur in the heat of the battle. Aaron charged in head-on, killing any clones that he could reach with his lightsaber, all the while throwing the remainder into each other. Julia hung back, deflecting blaster shots and using an occasional nudge of the Force to keep the clones away from Thirty-nine, who had promptly opened fire.

It was total chaos.

Screams echoed as countless soldiers fell dead. Lightsabers buzzed and hummed. Blasters spat out wild plasma bursts, adding to the cacophony. The enemy clones were breaking formation as panic took over, allowing Kherev to tear through their front line. Several tried to take advantage of this by running at Aaron, but he made quick work of them. Those that dodged his blade were immediately felled by Julia Star and Thirty-nine.

Outside the cave, Hotshot activated his wrist comlink. "Squads three through eight, do you copy? We've isolated the resistance. Send backup, pronto."

**...**

In what felt like hours – although it was only the next few minutes – the troops in the cave were utterly decimated. But victory was short-lived.

As Aaron and Kherev dashed out of the bloodbath, tailed by Julia (who was still doing her best to guard Thirty-nine, even as her sprint became a fatigued run,) the other clones came into view.

If the Jedi were forced back into the cave, they might never come out alive.

Aaron was in the lead. He broke into a sprint, his every heartbeat reverberating in his ribcage, his allies in tow. But Julia was falling behind. To her left, she heard a heated voice demand, **"After the others! I will finish the girl."**

In the same second that she realized _the girl _could only mean her, Julia Star found herself snatched up from the ground by an angry darkness, and the air was crushed from her lungs. She chocked on a scream, and then she was flying back. Light vanished as she was tossed through the endless corridor of the cave, past the scattered corpses of fallen clones, past where the Jedi had crouched in wait, somewhere even further in. She hit the floor with a sickening crash. There, she lay limp, gasping. Somehow, she still held her lightsaber. Its unwavering hum sent vibrations through her whole body.

The evil voice of the Sith called from the cave entrance. **"You have caused me must angst, Julia Star."**

She shuddered and pulled herself first to her knees, then painfully to her feet. _How does this... thing... know my name? _She set her teeth and squared her shoulders. "I have no quarrel with you, stranger."

The disembodied voice answered her out of the shadows. At every syllable, the Force itself seemed to quake violently with repercussions. It was a voice that would sound at home in the prisons of the Underworld.

"**Foolish child! Do you know what you have done?"**

"We have _not _betrayed the Republic," Julia stammered. "There has been a mistake. Some kind of trick!"

There was a chuckle. **"Your government is of no concern to me."**

"Whom do you serve, then?"

"**I serve the power you deny," **the monster replied, louder. It was getting closer.

"Enough riddles!" Julia shouted. "Tell me who you are, or else you merely breathe out empty threats."

The shadow laughed once more. It was a hard, merciless sound, casually amused. **"I am many things," **he said. **"I am hatred and jealousy, fury and deceit. I am the spawn of the Dark Side. But you, mortal, may call me by name, as such is the way of your people. My name is Darksaber."**

The footsteps of Darksaber sounded nearer and nearer.

Julia swallowed. Her flesh was cold, though she was drenched in thick sweat. The hairs on her arms and the back of her stood on end, forming goose bumps along her skin. Her heartbeat and breathing – in perfect synchronization – seemed deafening. She shivered, and somehow spoke.

"Show yourself."

Darksaber's tone was almost pleased. He spoke every individual word with weight, as if each one were a sentence in and of itself. **"As you wish."**

About two yards from Julia, a low hiss pierced the air, followed by a low, steady hum, as a lightsaber of midnight black slid into existence. The hilt of the blade was held loosely in a gloved hand. It gave off a pale, unfamiliar light, like that of a full moon. Illuminated by this glow was a being garbed in a long, hooded cloak that concealed his face.

Julia got the feeling that she wouldn't have wanted to see it, anyway. She raised her own weapon, angling it away from her body in defense. "I have fought Sith before."

"**I am not a Sith."**

Without warning, the black blade whirled forward. Sparks flew as it sizzled and crashed against Julia's block. Her heart racing out of control, she spun out of Darksaber's reach. "I will not die today."

"**We will see," **Darksaber purred.

He struck again, unleashing a complicated combination of strikes. Julia desperately repelled them. When she saw an opening, she thrust her palm forwards, pushing her foe away with the Force. Undeterred, he came back all the more ferocious. Julia ducked this time, trying to sweep his legs out from under him. But Darksaber leaped and swung down.

Julia rolled out of the way, and the slash missed. Barely.

Spinning round like a cyclone of pure power, Darksaber lashed out with a kick aimed at Julia's side. That connected. With a groan, she dropped to her side, and then looked up in horror to see her enemy's blade descending. She parried frantically. Drawing in the Force, she leaped to her feet.

They began to circle, each watching the other, and for a brief moment everything was crystal clear, crisp and raw.

This far back, all was dark. The only light came from the pair of lightsabers. At the moment, the weapons had paused, briefly still. The air smelled of smoke, mixed with the pungent odor of dead clones' corpses – a stench that wafted from the front of the cave.

Then the moment shattered.

Faster than Julia could blink, Darksaber lunged.

**A/N: **I promised you an update, and here it is. More is written, and will soon be published, I promise. Now, I ask you one question: I'll be revealing a twist in the next chapter. Have you noticed anything odd about my descriptions of the cave where the Jedi have been hiding?

Please review! :D


	22. Chapter XXI: Duel of the Fates

_** Chapter XXI: Duel of the Fates**_

__The clone ran at Aaron Earthshaker with the intent of bludgeoning him from behind.

Aaron did not turn to see him. He didn't _need _to see him. Aaron sensedthe soldier – a white-hot firework in the Force – and without even looking him in the eyes, Aaron thrust back, cleanly truncating the clone's head. It bounced in the dirt, smoking. The stench of overcooked meat hung in the air.

Another clone charged in, howling ragingly. This one took a plasma bullet in the base of his throat. He dropped to the grass with a drawn-out moan, clawing at the dirt.

For the first time, Aaron was a tiny bit grateful to have Thirty-nine for backup.

Kherev stood back-to-back with Aaron, saberstaff raised to protect his face. "Try to stick close, Earthshaker," he said in a rush. "Thirty-nine, keep firing. Julia, keep the blasterfire away from him."

Julia didn't reply.

"Julia?" Aaron repeated. The world seemed to close in on him. His stomach roiled as some long-suppressed horror boiled up inside. "_Julia_?" he yelled. If looks could kill, his stare would have incinerated Kherev on contact. "Where _is _she?"

At that moment, the remainder of the enemy ranks opened fire.

…

Julia leaped aside, and Darksaber's blade missed by inches. He swung up at her arm, perhaps meaning to tear her shoulder from her torso, but she pushed the strike down and away with the tip of her saber. Fear smothered her, became adrenaline, and she found herself fighting with an intense awareness that she had never felt with such force until now.

She struck at Darksaber, but again, he weaved with ease, shadowing her. It was by a great distance that the blue lightsaber missed.

It was like a dance – a lethal dance.

Nevertheless, to Darksaber it was a dance, a trivial game in the grand scheme of his suspended existence. But even the undead occasionally enjoy a fleeting respite from reality's cold, relentless embrace.

This was a game, yes. The galaxy was blossoming with many more Jedi he must destroy, but surely, _surely _it wouldn't hurt toy with this one just a bit. Surely, it would do no harm to tease this child only slightly, to gain a little satisfaction from a kill.

So rare, it was, for Darksaber to deliver true justice. So uncommon, it was, for him to truly withhold all restraint.

But today, with no one to stop him – with this Padawan child so weak and vulnerable – oh, the sick pleasure that washed over him in waves as he goaded her. Oh, the corrupted joy that filled him as he effortlessly made useless her every swing, and calmly – with hardly a thought – retaliated with instinctual attacks that even in their simplicity sent the Jedi liar into a frenzy, reeling from the sheer power he possessed.

Her fear was like the first taste of a drug. It left Darksaber ravenous with desire. He wanted _more_. He wanted to crush this ridiculous girl like dust beneath his heel, to hear her bones snap beneath his boot, to let her screams rise in a glorious symphony.

He wanted to make her suffer. To make her _pay_ for what the Order did to his people, all those years ago.

But he also wanted it to last for a bit, like one who slowly eats his meal, allowing the flavors to linger on his tongue.

In some fashion, this was a game. And Darksaber wanted to play his cards right.

Julia Star blocked a slash that had been directed at her neck. Forcing the black blade away, she struck at Darksaber. He repelled her attack, but she came at him again, spinning into a sweeping strike – a tornado of desperation and fear. Her attack was unpredictable, and by the same token, panicked and unrefined.

It was almost too easy.

Darksaber lashed out again, precisely, controlling the furnace within him. Purposely, he gave the Padawan exactly enough time to raise her weapon and block. Their blades collided, tangled in midair, and were caught there.

When the Padawan snapped away, her breathing and heartbeat were equally heavy. Her whole body trembled with exertion, and she struggled to control her lightsaber.

"**Tired, are you?"** Darksaber asked, amused. **"Did your master teach you nothing?"**

That seemed to touch a nerve.

"My Master was stronger than you will ever be," Julia gasped.

"**It's a shame that she's dead. I would so have liked for you to spend your last moments in her company. It would have been preferable if I had been given the opportunity to kill you both."**

"That's enough!" Julia cried, and struck awkwardly again. Darksaber countered with a flash of the Force that sent the Padawan stumbling backwards, barely managing to catch herself on a crevice in the wall.

She was hopeless against him. The game was ending.

And Darksaber was going to win.

…

Another low groan, another final breath, and another clone hit the ground at Kherev Ra'shah's feet. As a hail of shots came from behind him, the Togruta spun on his heel, twirling his saberstaff in a dazzling defense. The blasterfire glanced away in all directions.

"How are you doing, Aaron?" Kherev panted.

"Good." Aaron gripped a clone with the Force, pulled him into the air, and launched him like a cannonball at the others. Many of the soldiers scattered, but several were hit and collapsed into a heap.

Diverting his gaze, Thirty-nine focused on shooting down the rest of their enemies. He set his teeth and pretended they were merely targets. Not men like him. Not men at all.

Thirty-nine swallowed vomit that was threatening to come up. "How many more?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Not many." Kherev impaled another soldier, and then slammed a second to the ground with the Force.

Aaron listened to the sound of his own strained breathing. It helped him to break away from anger and exhaustion, allowing his body to function separately from his mind. He leapt over a volley of incoming fire and cut down another soldier.

_Julia must've been delayed, _he told himself. She must have hung back, covering their retreat, only to meet the next wave of clones. She must be nearby. Just behind him.

_ She has to be behind me…_

"Aaron!" Kherev's voice ripped through Aaron's mental barrier. "Incoming!"

A clone was hurling a grenade in the Padawan's direction. In the nick of time, Aaron wheeled around, caught it with the Force, and sent it back at the Republic ranks. It exploded in a cloud of shrapnel, instantly burning up the grass within range. Gray smoke blanketed the charred bodies left behind.

"Focus!" Kherev screeched at Aaron.

"Shut _up_!" the Padawan shot back, deflecting still more blasterfire.

Kherev sighed and decapitated a clone.

Thirty-nine retrieved a thermal detonator from his supply pack and tossed it towards a clump of soldiers. They tried to run, but in vain, and were devoured by the flames. When the blaze cleared, all were dead.

All but one.

A single soldier lay on his stomach, one of his hands outstretched, his fingers digging into the dirt, holding on for dear life. His armor was covered with soot. He lifted his head – shaking stiffly with the strain of the movement – and looked at Thirty-nine.

Thirty-nine looked back.

Identical faces, hidden by identical helmets, stared – and stared – with identical pairs of eyes.

"Brother…" the wounded clone choked out.

Blank eyes stared. And stared. The dead man's eyes drifted closed.

The living man's eyes blinked once – twice – and then Thirty-nine had to look away.

…

There was a sharp _snap-hiss _as Julia swung her blade at Darksaber's head. He raised his lightsaber in a block, shoved her back, and slashed at her side. She parried weakly. But this time – instead of drawing back – Darksaber swung again.

And again.

The lightsaber skimmed her leg, and then went for her chest, then her side, then her neck. One block. Then another. And another.

Darksaber sauntered forward, pushing Julia further back into the cave.

Swords flashed and whirled, arcing through the thick air, long lines of light and color in a world of black. An abrupt ferocity came alive inside Darksaber, and he rapidly increased the strength of his assault, speeding the dance. With a bestial precision, he maneuvered the Padawan further and further back.

Julia deflected a flurry of strikes. She blocked the first, second, third, her heart threatening to explode, her lungs rasping, her skin drenched in a chilling sweat.

But then, as easily as one blinks, Darksaber swept his blade forward and to the side. Jarred by a nudge of the Force and the force of the blow, Julia's lightsaber spun away and landed with a clatter in the darkness.

The blue light went out.

The sword of evil light whipped forward and across.

A long gash appeared across Julia's stomach. She saw it, but felt nothing. At the sight of the wound alone – her flesh torn, her chest seared, blood beginning to squeeze out – her eyes grew wide, and she inhaled sharply, feeling as if she were still two seconds behind this moment in time.

Then she felt it.

Julia did not cry out. Her mouth opened as if she were about to speak, but no sound emerged. Stunned by stinging pain, she collapsed, falling backwards, and looked up to see a black lightsaber pointing at her neck.

Darksaber raised his weapon for the killing blow.

With a numb, but vivid clarity, Julia thought, _He's been playing with me all along._

The Jedi felt in her core that the next strike would be directed straight at her heart – and in a way, she was right. The white-hot lightsaber curved down, lightly singing the side of the teenager's face as it cleanly severed her Padawan braid.

The little braid fluttered silently to the floor. As it fell away, so did her last surviving dignity.

That braid meant all she was. All she had accomplished. All she had yet to become.

Her teacher should have cut it. Master Zenna Merona should have done it as a traditional ritual, a signal of the Padawan's ascension into Knighthood.

Julia stared at Darksaber. The pain in her chest flared. She winced. She had a thousand protests screaming in her mind, but the words would not form on her lips.

"**You deserve to die knowing what you are," **Darksaber said. **"I will tell you. You are nothing. You are no one. You will die alone, a traitor to the Republic, an enemy of my people."**

Julia covered her wound with her hand. Hot, crimson blood was seeping out, working its way through the layers of her robe. Her eyes pleaded innocence. "I… never knew… your people."

"_**Fool**_**!" **Darksaber bellowed, and the sound was the Dark Side made manifest. The roar echoed.

_Fool! Fool! Fool!_

Julia clutched her throat and tried, uselessly, to breathe as she was yanked into the air by unseen power.

"**You… are a **_**Jedi! **_**The Jedi **_**murdered **_**my people!"**

Julia was thrown aside like a rag doll. She slammed into the cave wall with great force. The ground lurched forward, spun nauseatingly, but then jerked upright, spinning below her, and she found that she was still suspended in the air. The world moved like a reflection in a pond, rippling.

Darksaber snarled savagely, **"This **_**planet **_**was the **_**home **_**of my **_**people**_**! Warriors. Innocents. Men of **_**honor**_**!"**

The cave tilted before Julia's eyes again, against her will. She was jerked violently around to face the opposite wall. The wind rushed against her as she was hurtled directly at it. Her face was ground into the hard stone, and she choked on dirt and dust.

_Living Force… Have mercy…_

The ground shivered uncertainly below her, and she closed her eyes, fighting the qualms in her stomach that made her want to retch.

Darksaber growled, **"This **_**cave **_**belongs to **_**me! **_**This **_**planet **_**belongs to **_**me**_**!"**

Julia was twisted around, and with a thrust of her enemy's arm, she was thrown aside – she smashed into the right wall for the second time – then the landscape moved _up _– she was sucked skyward, and collided with the ceiling. She gasped as her head was bashed against the rock.

For a moment, she thought she might faint, but the pain of the bloody slash in her chest held her firmly in consciousness.

Darksaber shouted, boomed like thunder: **"You **_**thought **_**you had **_**destroyed us**_**! But **_**I **_**will destroy **_**you**_**! **_**I **_**will bring **_**justice**_**!"**

An ear-splitting bang – Julia hurtled back at the left wall. She held on to dear life with both hands, like one who shields a wavering candle form a gust of wind.

_Please, God… please… Help me…_

"**This cave," **cried Darksaber, **"was **_**my**_** shelter from the rain. This was where I **_**died**_**! Where I was **_**reborn **_**as **_**darkness**_**! As **_**justice**_**!"**

Inevitably, Julia tumbled towards the right wall. She braced herself, closing her eyes, but the impact still jarred her teeth. Pain shot through her entire skeleton in sharp pangs.

In a voice like a hideous dream, Darksaber yelled: **"I **_**am **_**justice!"**

Julia felt the invisible grip on her throat loosen and release her. With a crash she dropped to the cold stone floor. She looked up at Darksaber, cringing away. She could not move. The pain restrained her like iron shackles. She stared at her tormentor, at the gash in her chest, at the starbursts of blood now painted on the walls.

Her own voice sounded distant. "Please… don't…"

Darksaber slowly, slowly lifted one gloved hand.

"You are…" Julia breathed harsh and rough breaths. "Deceived…"

Darksaber's blade shook in his fist. **"It is the Jedi who are deceived!"**

Then there was a sensation – a feeling of unspeakable evil being gathered in from all four corners of the galaxy, and in a great burst of flame-red light, it became visible on Darksaber's palm. A crackling sound began to rise and peak. The energy flowed in serpentine strands to his fingers.

_Sith Lighting, _Julia thought. _Red Sith Lightning._

She'd heard tales of the horrors of it. Of the anguish it produced. Of the way it made you want to close your eyes and die.

The forked bolts of coarse, raw hatred leapt towards her with giddy hisses of delight.

**A/N: **See? I promised a twist. This was the cave from the prologue!

I'm glad I finally came back to this story. This is the biggest action scene so far, and it's very intense. I'm hoping you're on the edge of your seat by now!

I'll update eventually. I have more written, just have to type it.

Thanks! Please review!


	23. Chapter XXII: Rolling Thunder

_**Chapter XXII: Rolling Thunder**_

__Aaron wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Is that all of them?" he asked, breathing hard.

"One more," the Togruta spat behind him, his sights set on a clone that was fleeing. The only one that was still alive.

Kherev raised his left hand and sent a blast of the Force rolling towards the lone survivor. The soldier flipped twice in the air, and then landed sharply on his back.

Kherev launched his lightsaber through the air. It sliced the clone's chest in a mess of gashes as it pin-wheeled over him, away from him, and back to the Jedi Knight's outstretched arm. He smoothly caught the saberstaff in his palm and deactivated it, returning it to his belt.

"There." Kherev grinned. "That's the last of them. We win."

Thirty-nine lowered his blaster, his shoulders heaving with exhaustion. He could taste sweat on his tongue. He swallowed hard, trying not to breathe in the rotten, charred smell of the dead bodies all around. He feared he was still in danger of throwing up.

"You alright?" Kherev asked. "You don't look well."

"Fine." Thirty-nine sighed, leaning on his blaster. "But more will be on the way," he reminded the others.

"No problem. I'm still ready to go," Kherev said with a wry smile. He twirled his lightsaber hilt around in his fingers. "How about you, Aaron?"

"Where's Julia?" Aaron blurted out. As he spoke the words, he felt a chill crawl across his skin, from the hairs on the back of his neck to the base of his spine.

"She must have met up with the other squads," Kherev presumed.

"She should be back by now," Thirty-nine protested.

Aaron re-activated his blade. "She needs help. We have to move!"

Kherev seized him by the shoulder. "Don't panic yet!" he snapped. "She's probably on her way to rendezvous as we speak. I can't imagine there were many more squads. They would have broken through by now if she were in danger."

Thirty-nine leaned his weapon on his shoulder, his expression hardening. "With all due respect, Jedi, she'll need backup."

"No, Kherev's right! It wouldn't have taken this long if they'd cut her off," Aaron spluttered. "Something else. Something happened." His hands clenched into fists. "What if she met up with the Sith?"

_The Sith._

The plausibility of the Padawan's fears dawned abruptly on his allies. The atmosphere froze. The flow of time drew to a grating, screeching halt.

Thirty-nine stared at Aaron. His tight stance spoke volumes. It said, _This was not the plan._

Kherev stared at Aaron. His saberstaff flared to life in a split second. His eyes started to fill with blood.

Aaron stared blankly back in the direction of the cave, unable to look at them. Images of Julia – dying slowly, slowly at the Sith murderer's hands – flickered before him.

Life was fragile. There would be a million ways for the monster to do it. Suffocation. Decapitation. A thrust through the heart. Crushing her lungs. Breaking her skull. Squeezing her soft brain until it failed altogether. Snapping her neck. Maybe even her ribs. One. By. One.

For a moment, Aaron could hear her shrieking in his head. Calling him.

And then there was a scream. A _real_ scream.

From the cave, echoing violently, came a desperate, bloodcurdling wail of anguish. It stopped quickly, and Aaron thought he must simply be going mad. Because no human should have been able to scream like that.

It was the kind of sound he only heard in nightmares.

_Not real. Impossible._ _Only in my mind…_

Another hellish shriek. The sound of agony exploded like frag mines in Aaron's eardrums. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the Sith would have to do to make Julia scream like that. The noise cut off abruptly, and then resumed, still louder – a keening, banshee cry for release.

Later on, Aaron would be unable to recall what occurred in the next few moments. He would not remember what thoughts flashed across his mind; he would not attempt to explain the rush of heat that consumed him, unlocked from somewhere deep inside, shaking itself alive. Heat that fed. Heat that sent his vision into shades of black and white. Heat that roared around and within him.

Something whirled about him, an unstoppable emotional flame, reducing anger and fear and hate and the ice around his heart to ashen cinders.

Somehow, Aaron's lightsaber was no longer clenched in his sweaty fist, but hung on his belt. His feet were no longer on the ground, but flying across the grass as he sprinted madly towards the cave. His racing heart, his ragged breathing – irrelevant.

Julia was _dying_.

He was supposed to protect her. He was supposed to wrap her in his arms, safe and protected, and never let go. He'd kissed her the night before. He loved her.

_Julia, I'm coming, I promise! I'm coming…_

Behind him, Aaron could hear Thirty-nine blaring complaints, telling him to slow down, reminding him that whatever was in there, it was dangerous. And Kherev – spouting insults and warnings and nonsense about a better strategy.

Aaron Earthshaker kept his eyes on the cave.

All he heard were her screams. Louder and louder, closer now, agonized…

In less than a minute he had reached the mouth of the cave. He plunged headlong into the heavy darkness. "I'm coming!" he shouted. "Julia, I'm coming!" He leapt over the dead clones' bodies, wading through the piles of reeking death. He tripped once. With a growl, he righted himself and pressed on.

"I'm coming," he panted again. "Hold on, please… I'm coming!"

Somewhere in the maze of corpses, he could hear her shrieking all the more.

…

It was more than pain.

It was as if someone were burning Julia at the stake.

Every vein blazed with agony; rich, raw fire coursed through her blood; her very flesh boiled; each individual inch of muscle burned uncontrollably as the lightning ate her alive.

This was beyond pain. It transcended any sensation, good or bad, that Julia had experienced in her entire life.

This was complete, flawless agony, delicately crafted, conjured up by darkness itself. The lightning entered her violently and became trapped, leaping between her hands, arms, legs, feet, until it found her neck, and exploded up her spine, into her head, reverberating against the inside of her skull. It echoed angrily in her ears – a deafening growl of continuous electric shocks, each more impossibly painful than the last.

Julia's nerves fired uncontrollably – spasmodically. Her limbs flailed; she thrashed and twisted in ways that she hadn't known were physically possible.

All she saw – a distorted, blurred world, flashing with crimson bolts of brilliant lightning. All she felt – fire, inside her, all over her, all-consuming. All she heard, through the long tunnel that her universe had become – over the roar of the lightning, a broken stream of tormented shrieks cried out.

In some sane part of Julia's brain, it registered that the screams were, in fact, her own.

And she writhed, and wailed, and screamed.

And screamed. And screamed.

**…**

The claustrophobic space that had once been their home bent and warped the endless shrieking, making it sound all the more inhuman.

As Aaron charged deeper into the shadowed depths of the cave, he found himself disoriented in a pitch black void. But suddenly –

Light. Flashes of red.

The Padawan darted in faster, closing the last of the distance. The wails rose, more distinct now. Even worse up close. Aaron felt like someone was clawing his heart out.

_Where is she? _His head reeled. His eyes darted left and right and left again, in vain. "_Julia_!" Her name was a knife in his lungs. "_Julia_! Answer me!" He ran further, faster, half-insane by now.

Then he saw her.

Illuminated by a wildly pulsating crimson glow, Julia Star writhed in torment.

Hideous webs of lightning racked the teenager's feeble frame. Her back arched as she struggled to escape the energy's inexorable grip. She cringed away from her torturer, arms and legs flailing, like a dying animal speared by the hunter, struggling against death with its last gasp of air. Her mouth was open in a continuous, screeching plea for it to end.

Hanging over the Padawan, about a yard away, a spectral form shrouded in a dark robe towered above her. From his hands came forth the furious lightning, feeding ravenously on Julia's life.

Aaron's lightsaber seemed even brighter in the dark. The hiss of the energy became a hiss in his throat, rapidly deepening into a hoarse growl that rapidly rose to a feverish scream that rapidly sucked in the Force like a black hole. Aaron's hands began to tremble, and the tremor spread up to the joints of his elbows, then crawled up to his shoulder, then snaked down his back, then came back up again, jolting through his neck and pounding in his eardrums.

With an enraged yell, he thrust his arms forward and unleashed the power building in his chest.

An uncontainable blast of the Force broke free of its restraints and tore towards the Sith. With an unnatural, wolfish howl, he hurtled into the black depths, vanishing into the corridor of the cave.

** …**

Anguish. Anguish was the whole universe. Anguish was all Julia knew.

Then it stopped.

The light. The torment. The writhing. _Stopped_. All at once – altogether.

But there was still pain – _natural _pain, at least. Her chest… the gash… burning. Too much. She thought maybe her ribs were broken. How many, she couldn't say. Every one of her _bones _hurt… her _head _hurt… She wondered if she had a concussion, or was bleeding _inside _and not just outside.

That would explain why the world was so blurry and sickening. Why she couldn't think of anything but _pain_…

She talked to herself.

Fight it. Fight the waves crashing over you, the ripples of pain foaming all around you. Fight the fear. The panic. Fight it!

It became too much.

_Let it end, _she prayed, at long last. She didn't care anymore. About anything. Anyone. Just let it end. Don't draw it out like this. _Let it end, _she prayed, and she waited.

Miraculously, disconcertingly, it did start to dissolve. Julia's head spun. The pain dulled. She was sinking deeper.

Deeper…

Death was close, right beside her, suddenly more real – and Julia couldn't bear to see it end. It was hard to breathe before, but now it was becoming impossible. She heard only her heartbeat – pounding, hard and irregular.

_Someone, pull me… out…_

A… warmth… against her. A warmth that wasn't pain.

Comforting. Safe.

A sound, far away. A voice. Words. A sentence.

"Julia, I'm sorry, I'm here, I'm here… It's alright, it's okay… I'm sorry."

A soft voice broke through the water and drew Julia back to the surface. Agony revived. But _he _was there. Aaron. She was too broken to protest when she realized that the warmth was his arms, supporting her limp body. He was kneeling beside her.

She wanted to say something. _Anything_.

"I…" she managed. "Aaron…"

"Just hold on," he whispered. "You're safe now."

Julia held on to his voice, not catching its full meaning through the dark veil over her eyes. One by one, she translated the words to herself, letting each syllable wash gently over her, a little wave of new strength.

Safe.

She repeated after him, quietly.

"Safe," Julia whispered.

She thought detachedly, _Where is Darksaber? _She looked up, but he had disappeared. All she could choke out was, "Where…?"

"Don't try to talk," Aaron soothed. "He's gone."

Julia coughed fiercely. "We have… to go." She tried to sit up, but winced and cried out. She sank back down against the cool stone floor, breathing jaggedly.

Aaron bit his lip. "Don't worry… I'll carry you."

Suddenly, there were frantic footsteps, accompanied by a yellow light. The two Padawans looke up to see Kherev and Thirty-nine.

The clone stared at Julia.

Kherev looked at Aaron and asked, "Is she alright?"

"I'm –" Julia gasped. "_Ow_…" She covered her lightsaber wound with one hand. Her palm began to turn bright red.

"We have to get out of here," Aaron said, as if Julia's blood-soaked robe weren't reason enough.

A feral roar came from their right. **"Do you think this is a game, Jedi?" **A hideously perfect lightsaber ignited, revealing Darksaber, who stood only yards away, impossibly still, emanating anger.

Julia began to shake. In horrified denial, she again attempted to sit upright, but released a shrill scream of pain as she did so. Fearing that she might damage herself further, Thirty-nine pinned her down carefully – but firmly – with both hands.

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

Aaron's heart stung like he was the one who was bleeding.

Kherev turned, completely calm, to lock gazes with the Sith – his voice dripping dark emotion. "As a matter of fact, you've broken all the game's rules."

**A/N: **More to come. I promise!

Please review! And if you need a refresher on the details of Darksaber's past, that's all in the prologue. May the Force be with you.


	24. Chapter XXIII: Shattered

_**Chapter XXIII: Shattered**_

__A sizzling blade crashed down over Kherev's head, but he blocked it, sending radiant sparks of black energy dust out into the heavy, electrified air. Beneath the strain, the Togruta's arms nearly bent over double. He nearly fell to his knees beneath the power of the blow. The enemy's sword pressed in with brutal strength, steadily forcing Kherev's saberstaff back towards his face – so close that he could smell the heat rolling off of their weapons, singing away the edge of Darksaber's hood.

Rather than staggering away, Kherev turned his opponent's power against him, leaning into the attack. He slipped like a ghost beneath the incoming strike, sharply disengaging from the saber lock and swinging himself into a somersaulting flip that left him beside his foe, but several feet away – at a safe distance.

Kherev grinned, steady and self-assured as usual, but he was breathing hard as he spoke. "Not bad for a sadistic monster."

Aaron moved up beside his ally, his lightsaber lowered at an angle from his body, ready to strike at any moment. "Don't think you've already won, Sith Lord," he said. "You forget the heart of the Jedi Order – we protect each other."

From behind him, off to the side, he heard Julia's voice.

"Aaron," she choked out, her voice suddenly firm, even in weakness. Gritting her teeth against the stabbing pain, she propped herself up on her elbows just enough to look Aaron in the eyes. "Don't try it."

**"So I see the Jedi travel in threes?" **Darksaber laughed. There was no humor in the sound. **"Is the Order so pathetic that none dare to face me alone?" **He lashed out at Aaron and Kherev with his sword; mortal and immortal exchanged blows. **"But you are wiser than your years. Your fear is justified – but alas, it will be your destruction. Such is the way of the Jedi. Nothing but blind slaves. Terrified of that which they cannot control."**

Aaron ground his teeth together. He slashed at Darksaber's torso – but missed. Kherev lunged in quick succession, forcing their enemy to play defense.

Darksaber caught the attacks head-on, not flinching away, always holding his ground.

The flow of assaults increased in speed. Kherev began to spin, to weave; leaping between walls, using his position relative to his opponent's to his own advantage. Aaron took the brunt of Darksaber's attacks, struggling to hold him back, and ultimately resorting to a well-timed Force push that sent the dark warrior flying back several yards.

Kherev sprinted forwards, his saberstaff cleaving through the air in a figure-eight motion that made it impossible for Darksaber to pass. He was forcing their enemy back. Away from Julia. Towards the dead end that existed far back at the edge of the cave.

The Jedi Knight drew to a sharp halt, moving aside to make room for his ally in the confined space of the corridor.

Aaron sauntered forwards, white-knuckling his lightsaber. "You will pay for what you've done, Sith."

Darksaber's stance tightened beneath his robe. **"It is too late for you, boy. Turn back now. The Order is dead."**

Aaron raised his blade up to his face, letting the light burn into his eyes. "The Order lives until I stop breathing."

"**You are too far gone, then. The time for your redemption is past." **Darksaber pointed his weapon at Aaron. **"I'm afraid, boy, that it is time for you to die."**

**...**

A voice. She heard it, but barely understood it through the ever-thickening fog around her mind.

"Hold on, Padawan. Just hang on," Thirty-nine's voice said. "You can't give up now."

Julia coughed once, paused, and proceeded to dissolve into a coughing fit. When it subsided, she could taste blood in her mouth. She breathed heavily for a few moments, and then reached out, groping for Thirty-nine's hand. He caught hers and held it tightly. She gave him a small squeeze, as if entreating him.

"Thirty-nine... listen to me."

"I'm listening," the clone said.

"I-I'm dying. Promise me..." She convulsed, choking on a cough. "Promise... take them somewhere safe."

"Of course."

Julia's agonized eyes bored into him. "_Promise_."

"I promise."

The Padawan tightened her hold on his hand. "I'm dying," she said again. "You... know that."

The clone shook his head. "Come on, Julia. You survived this long. You're not going to die. Don't think like that."

Julia stared down at her bloody chest. She closed her eyes, her mouth hanging half-open, words yet unformed struggling to make their way out of her lungs. Finally, she rasped, "Kill me."

"What?" Thirty-nine reached across to seize her other hand, gripping them both with urgency. Blotches of crimson stained his gauntlets. "No! I can't do that, Julia, think about –"

"You'll... all die," she said.

"No, we won't!" Thirty-nine found himself doing the one thing he had always been taught never to do to a wounded person – shaking her – not violently, but enough that her eyes shot open and her teeth locked together. "We're going to live. _You're _going to live. I can't – you can't –"

She cut him off. "_Darksaber_... he'll k-k-kill them."

Thirty-nine shook his head sharply back and forth. "No one is going to die, Julia."

"I-I'm dying... _anyway. _Kill me." Julia's breathing grew sharp and harsh with the strain. "Kill me... and... run. Get _away_."

Thirty-nine felt for her pulse. It was thin, but abnormally fast.

She _was _going to die – he knew that – if the Jedi didn't get her some healing quickly. He squeezed her hands with desperate ferocity, as if he could force her heart to keep beating by the pressure.

"I can't kill you. I can't. Hold on, Julia, think of everything you have to live for. Everyone who _cares _about you."

Julia sighed.

Aaron and Kherev and Thirty-nine were going to die. She was in anguish, bleeding to death. The Jedi must all be dead; the Council must be dead after all, even though she denied it at the first thought of it. They must be, or a rescue team would have come. Her life aspirations were gone. Her teacher – gone. Her family – long gone, ever since she became a Youngling. Aaron, whatever she felt for him, whatever mixed-up relationship they could have had, was going to die.

Images of death – of those she loved meeting death, of the clones dealing death, or herself meeting her own death – these visions swam before Julia, a film of tears welling up over her vision. "_Aaron..._" she panted.

"Aaron's fine," Thirty-nine assured her, without conviction.

"He can't... I... _no, no_!" She fought to sit up. The clone pinned her down, restraining her wildly flailing limbs. As the pain exploded beyond what she could take, Julia gave in. She collapsed back down against the cool stone ground. The clone was whispering something she ignored. She had no strength to translate words to meaning. No strength left at all.

Nothing.

She closed her eyes and breathed, "Nothing left."

**A/N: **I know this is horribly short. I apologize. This might just be the biggest scene in the entire story, and I don't have time to write any more now.

Master Jessie, let me just thank you for your review. I freaked out when I got it. I thought I'd lost your interest, so it really made my day to see that you took the time to catch up on my story. Your descriptions of my characters were spot-on. It stunned me. That's exactly how I think of them, and I'm really glad you're seeing them the way I meant to write them.

Freelancer Seal, you already know how awesome you are.

May the Force be with you!


	25. Chapter XXIV: Edge of Power

_**Chapter XXIV: Edge of Power**_

__Kherev jumped into the air, pushed off the wall, and came flying at Darksaber from behind. The Sith knocked him to the ground with the Force – it felt like a duranium fist being ground into the Jedi Knight's stomach – and he landed hard, tearing the fringes of his robe and scraping his arms on legs as he tumbled into the wall.

But Aaron was at it again, his blue blade swinging about as if it had a mind of its own. Darksaber defended against the barrage with simple tactics. Aggravation and anger were emotions that he knew very well.

Then Kherev was clambering back to his feet, coming in with a solid diagonal strike from right to left that would have sliced Darksaber in two had he not blocked the swing.

This was becoming frustrating. The annoyingly unpredictable little alien didn't seem to have a limit. He bent over almost backwards as Darksaber's weapon arced through where his neck had been only a moment before.

Aaron was slashing at the Sith's head; Darksaber weaved and blocked the attempt, then the next, and finally he seized the Padawan in a chokehold. The Dark Side invisibly coiled around Aaron's airway and began to squeeze, applying careful pressure to his lungs. His hands flew to his neck.

Kherev gathered in the Light Side and counter-attacked, throwing loose a shockwave that sent their adversary to his knees, leaning on one fist. Darksaber growled with fury. Aaron broke free of his stranglehold, landing on his feet, uninjured but jarred. Seeing an opening, he ran forward with a shout to plunge his sword through Darksaber.

The Jedi's apparent upper hand was short-lived.

Darksaber raised both his hands as he rose to his feet and telekinetically hurled Aaron aside like an unwanted toy.

Kherev was already there, having anticipated this, and was moving to strike the Sith down. "Game over," he hissed – but his confidence was misplaced.

The villain flipped suddenly over Kherev's head, like a Fury of Hades taking to the skies, his robe rippling like pure energy. The Togruta barely managed to hit the floor in time to drop out of his opponent's reach.

"**You are powerful,"** the monster laughed as he landed. **"I grant you that. Why, like a simple child, do you shackle your potential?"**

Kherev leaned into a defensive stance. "I am above the evil that ensnares you." he said.

Aaron stumbled to a standing position and moved to cover his ally's flank. "You underestimate us, Darksaber."

The Dark Lord chuckled. **"Aaron, Kherev, my **_**dear **_**friends..." **He spun his lightsaber elegantly about him. **"All creatures know the power of hate."**

With a primeval roar, the shadow charged.

Lightsabers clashed and buzzed and danced, and the light danced on the walls with them; the pounding of the Jedi hearts kept time; the screeching of their weapons was as a drum's rhythm; the shuffling of their feet and the sound of their panting an eerie background music.

Occasionally, a cry of pain from Julia broke the pattern, followed by a hushed rebuke from Thirty-nine – but these diminished as Aaron, Kherev, and Darksaber moved further towards the back of the cave.

After several minutes of this, (a time that felt infinite to the Jedi combatants,) Darksaber sent a crackling ball of lightning at Aaron. The youth screamed in surprise, staggered back, and collapsed against the wall, shocked into silence. His lightsaber was still in his fist, but he was clenching it so hard he had deactivated it. Needles of pain stung his nerves.

So this was what the Sith had put Julia through. What he would continue to put her through if someone didn't do something. If _Aaron _didn't do something.

He tried to sit up, too soon, and nearly fainted from dizziness and nausea. There appeared to be five or six Kherevs instead of one. The light of their swords blew out into blinding starbursts of color.

Kherev and Darksaber continued to exchange blows, the former using daring acrobatics to keep his style fresh and catch his foe off guard. A somersault here, a spin there – more than enough to keep the Sith on his toes.

A trio of self-absorbed, overconfident Acolytes had been one thing.

A leaping, twisting, wheeling, hopping, aggressive jitterbug of a Jedi Knight was quite another.

The Togruta might not be able to best a master swordsman, but he was impressively annoying for a passing distraction. Like a hungry nexu, scratching at the edge of Darksaber's robe.

Yes, over time, the Jedi would wear down, and ultimately he would break. But if Darksaber took too long, that defective edition of Jango Fett might manage to drag Julia Star to a safer place.

Darksaber still had some more pain in mind for her.

And then there was the added variable of the human boy, another wrench thrown into the equation. Ignorant though he was, he did seem awfully protective of the girl.

But Darksaber knew that every day was accompanied by nightfall; that every coin had two sides – for every light, a shadow; for every life, a death; for every mountain, a valley; for every new beginning, an end of an age. Such was the way of fate – the way of the Force.

The strongest barricade hides the weakest city.

The greatest hero makes the deadliest villain.

_The bigger they are, the harder they fall,_ as the age-old expression said.

These Jedi would fall magnificently, like trophies. Darksaber simply needed to uncover soft underbellies, scraping off their shells and prodding them a bit.

Step one: take the human out of the picture.

"**I feel your power. Your rage. The hate that thrives inside you. You are hardly a stellar student, Aaron Earthshaker."**

Aaron threw a flying kick at Darksaber's jaw. It connected, but the Sith hardly flinched. Kherev closed in from behind, but was repulsed by a combination of sweeps and thrusts that moved so quickly, they appeared as a single movement of infinite complexity. In the same second, Darksaber leapt up and kicked back into Kherev's ribcage with the heels of his boots.

The Togruta staggered away.

The Sith flipped in the air, landing solidly in a feral crouch, and snapped into a corkscrew towards Aaron. Thinking fast, the Padawan diverted his leap out of line with the Force before lunging for the kill.

At the last possible second, Darksaber raised his blade. The power of Aaron's fury crashed against his block like a charging reek with its nostrils flaring – and locked there. The boy would take it no further. His hot, heavy breath blew in Darksaber's face.

Darksaber chuckled. **"You are an 'earthshaker,' indeed."**

"I've heard quite enough about my name," the teen growled.

The blue lightsaber pushed harder against the black. The light of both now burned like radiant lava in Aaron's cinnamon eyes.

"_**Yes**_**!"** The Sith elongated the word into a seductive purr. **"Use it... **_**use it**_**..."**

**...**

The broken cadence of Julia Star's slow, methodical breathing pumped familiar adrenaline through Thirty-nine's veins. _Think. You have to think! _He mentally screamed at himself. Streams of logic, what meager medical knowledge he possessed, battlefield experiences, and training from Hotshot and Blitz and the Kaminoans coded themselves together in his mind, weaving themselves into some sort of a plan.

Thirty-nine hastily grabbed a medpac from his supplies, opened Julia's palm, and closed her fingers around it.

_Beep, _whirred the device.

Her breaths became frantic and short for several seconds. The color drained from her face, leaving it unnervingly paper-white.

"It's..." Her voice was not her own in her ears.

"Better?" the soldier asked.

She gave a small nod.

"Let me see the wound." Thirty-nine reached to separate the tattered remains of her robe, but she batted him away, adamant in her resistance.

"_No_."

Thirty-nine hushed her and pulled the sides of the hole in her robe apart. Beneath them was a hideous, crimson mess. But – was there something wrong with the arc of her chest? Or was it an illusion created by her shallow inhales and exhales?

Thirty-nine couldn't see a thing through all the blood.

Snatching a square of gauze from his backpack, he began to soak up the liquid. Julia winced at the touch, but she didn't protest.

As the pool of blood thinned, Thirty-nine was able to get a better look at the injury. The medpac had helped some – but not much. Charred, raw flesh rimmed the cut, which was terribly red, and still bleeding gradually with every passing minute.

"What did that cursed animal _do _to you?" Thirty-nine blurted out.

Julia ground her teeth together. "Lightsaber," she spat.

"Lightsaber wounds don't bleed."

"It wasn't –" She gasped. "– a _normal _lightsaber."

"What the _heck _are you talking about?"

"You _saw_. It was..." – cough – "...black."

The clone shook his head. "That makes no difference."

Julia's breathing was evening itself out, but her speech fluctuated between sharp and slurred. "It wasn't... _normal. _It's a deep cut. And it... _aagh..._"

Her eyes drifted closed again, trying to shut out the world.

Thirty-nine stared at her injury and shivered. The sadistic precision with which the wound had been inflicted was sickening. He turned away, fighting his gag reflex. A lifetime of war had not prepared him for this... this... cruelty.

Thirty-nine turned back, re-examining the cut, his stomach flip-flopping. He suddenly knew with absolute certainty, _If that cut were any deeper, her heart would be in pieces on the floor._

**...**

Aaron groaned, clutching the lightsaber burn mark on his right shoulder. "_YOU..._" He leapt at the Sith with a howl, but Kherev slammed the Padawan down hard with the Force.

"Stay out of my way!" the Togruta ordered. "He'll only manipulate you."

Aaron rubbed his injured arm, stumbling to his feet "Are you insane? You can't take him alone! I'm strong enough to –"

"Aaron, shut _up_!" Kherev shrieked, simultaneously deflecting a pair of attacks that would have severed both his legs. Weapons flashed and spun in beautiful conflict as he retaliated with a leaping, downward slash that Darksaber had to step back to evade.

Aaron roared in with a vertical strike, only to receive _another _red-hot slash on his _other _shoulder – and a sharp kick to the face. He swung again, felt his legs drop out from under him as he was swept into a takedown, and rolled just in time to dodge another kick from Darksaber.

"Get _out _of my way!" Kherev insisted.

Aaron stumbled back from the raging fight, slowly regaining his balance as he rose back to a standing position. His chest heaved. Both his arms felt numb between his shoulders and his elbows, stinging with pain from the lightsaber wounds. Small streams of blood dripped down towards his wrists.

"I have to protect _Julia_!" he shouted.

"Take her and go," Kherev stammered. "I'll catch up to you. Go!"

Aaron gritted his teeth. "I need you _alive _to _heal _her!"

"You're making this worse, not better." Kherev ducked under a horizontal spin of the black blade. "Go. _Now_!"

Aaron squared his shoulders, ignoring the pain of the motion. "I would rather die."

"You'll do just that if you don't _get _the_ heck _out of here!" Kherev yelled madly. A burst of dark energy catapulted him at the wall, but he pushed off with his legs and curved down, his saberstaff twirling like a propeller of fire. "You'll _die_ if you stay. You might as well go _drown yourself_ in the river!"

The river.

The words echoed, bouncing around the inside of Aaron's skull like blaster bolts ricocheting. _The river, the river, the river..._

Aaron Earthshaker launched like a guided missile towards the cave's back wall.

"You're going the _wrong way_!" Kherev screamed. "The exit is _that _way. Do you _hear me, _kid?"

There was no reply.

Darksaber wheeled and kicked Kherev in the side. He laughed coldly. **"Do you think me a devil? A tempter? A deceiver?" **The two began to circle, both watching for an opening. **"I was like you once – faceless. Hollow. But now I know myself. I know the depths of my darkness, of my power... and I am whole."**

Darksaber's saber carved through the air with all the terrible beauty of a falcon with talons bared, swooping in to seize its prey. Kherev somersaulted over it in midair and retaliated, trying to maneuver the Sith towards the wall.

**"You could be **_**unstoppable**_**," **the monster murmured as he stepped deftly aside. "_**Invincible**_**." **He slashed at the Togruta's sensitive montrals; Kherev just managed to block in time. **"But you are afraid, ruled by the creed of your elders. They teach you to empty your mind. To hide. But where can you hide from yourself?"**

Kherev white-knuckled the hilt of his saberstaff. "I serve the Force, while you are enslaved to it."

**"Classic Jedi propaganda!" **Darksaber ferociously resumed his attack. **"I know the **_**fullness **_**of the Force. I am above fear, above duty."**

"And have you no honor?" Kherev growled as their swords locked. The energy blades sputtered and coughed out clouds of colorful, radioactive dust.

**"You know nothing of honor!" **Darksaber shifted his balance, snapping away, and seized the Togruta in a telekinetic fist, dashing him against the floor. **"Your justice serves only yourself. "**

Kherev scrambled to his feet, his eyes on fire with rage.

"**Your companion, Aaron, is still blind," **Darksaber continued.** "Tell me, Jedi Knight - will you share his fate? Will you force my hand against you?"**

"I'll never join you," Kherev snarled, the savagery in his voice startling him. His voice was both a rancor's war cry and a snake's hiss at the same time. He swallowed hard. "I am an instrument of the Jedi Order. A warrior of the Galactic Republic. A representative of Shili."

**"No longer,"** said the Sith, inflectionless. **"Your Order has been destroyed from within. Your Republic has eaten itself alive."**

Kherev found himself baring his teeth. He struck out with his blade; again, he was forced back. His heart slithered into his throat. "Don't try to wound me with lies, Dark Lord!"

**"I speak pure truth to you, Jedi,"** Darksaber went on. **"Your Republic is dead."**

"Stop," Kherev spat at him, but his voice wavered. Something hung at the back of his mind. A warning? A sense that the Dark Lord was right?

Kherev's heart began to race like a hyperdrive generator. He angled his weapon aggressively.

**"Just ask your little traitor,"** Darksaber said. **"The clone. Did you really think you could trust him? He knew the Republic was dead before he ever joined your makeshift rebellion. He hid the truth from you. He **_**lied**_** to you."**

"_Stop_!" Kherev said, the power in his yell like razor blades in his throat. He sent a flurry of strikes at his enemy, but was repelled. Sweat soaked his robe, glistening on his forehead and montrals in the rusty light of his saberstaff. His shoulders heaved. No further words would come.

**"What are you fighting for, Kherev?"** Darksaber challenged, simultaneously driving his boot into the Togruta's gut**. "A government that has already drowned in its own corruption? Your allies? What have they ever done but manipulated you for their own ends? Your family? They gave you up to the Temple. Your race? Slaves to the Order's mindless machine." **

Darksaber's blade hovered inches from the Jedi's neck. Visceral heat made the Togruta's blood-red eyes water.

**"What are you fighting for, Kherev?"**

**...**

**A/N: **More to come! Thanks for the reviews! This is so fun to write!


	26. Chapter XXV: Breaking Point

_**Chapter XXV: Breaking Point**_

For a Jedi, being on the brink of death wasn't really anything new. Aaron had thought once before that he might be facing the end. It was a sickening feeling – watching the best and worst snapshots of his life swing by on fast-forward across the movie screen of his mind.

These current visions were different, though. More distinct than those he had experienced of Order 66 and the subsequent chaos, but clearly figments of his imagination. They were not entirely impossible outcomes of current events, however, and this frightened him.

Today, Aaron wasn't reliving his past.

He was imagining Julia's future.

She had a gentle, quiet strength inside, he was sure. But when things started crashing down around her, when it was time to face the end with shoulders squared and jaw set, who would promise to watch her back? Who would guard the fragile, hopeful girl she hid from the world? Who would prevent them from tearing down her light? And when all else failed, and death came grim and certain to cut the thread of life – who would hold her hand?

Even a Jedi shouldn't have to die alone.

As he raced against relentless time, every second a beat of pain in his shoulders, each step forward taking every ounce of his will, Aaron saw another's life flash before his eyes.

She was lying on her back, her chest rising and falling with a rapid, quaking motion, her eyes closed, her bones unnaturally pronounced, showing clearly through her tight, pallid skin as her dry lips parted in a long, distant sigh and her last breath slipped away, a puff of white briefly visible before vanishing into the waiting expanse of the atmosphere –

"No!" Aaron yelled aloud, panting for air but somehow able to scream. "_No_!"

The Padawan's legs ran for him, dragging him further into the blinding darkness. His body wanted to collapse, but his mind felt like it was being submerged in acid. His head throbbed, his arms burned, his legs stung...

He sprinted faster. His foot caught on a loose stone, and he tumbled forwards, arms outstretched but unable to catch his fall. His lightsaber tumbled from his open palm, landing with such a jolt, it deactivated. The world was as black as dead space.

Scraped and wounded, his robe stained with blood from both himself and Julia, his face drenched in his own sweat, the weight of exhaustion pressing down over him, Aaron wormed one hand between his chest and the ground, forcing himself back to his feet.

Staggering, he almost tripped over his own feet. But he didn't. He found his balance. Clutching his chest with one torn-up hand for support, he stretched out his other arm, groping uselessly for his lightsaber in the eternal nothingness. _Where the heck –? _His palm found the wall – the floor – the cool, slick surface of metal –

Aaron flicked his lightsaber's activation switch. Blue light split the night, and he took off running again. Running, running, running.

Aaron's slammed into the back wall with such force, he nearly snapped his wrist as he barreled into it. Reaching down with his free hand, he fumbled with the supply packs they had stored here.

_Where the heck are the grenades?_

Aaron opened the nearest pack. Rations. Nothing else. With a shout, he hurled the useless pack aside, digging into a second. More food. He seized a third, gasping for air. The latch was stuck fast. He slammed it against his knee, ripped at it with his fingers, tore it with his teeth.

That did it.

The pack fell open. A cluster of frag grenades rolled to the floor.

**...**

Darksaber leveled his blade, the tip of his sword hovering unwaveringly, inches from the base of the Jedi Knight's neck. **"What is **_**left **_**to fight for?"**

"_**STOP**_!" Kherev burst out. A blast of the Force ripped angrily out of him, like a plasma grenade blowing open in his chest, sending Darksaber to the ground. The Togruta brought his saberstaff up at an angle, his entire body rigid, like a serpent poised to strike. "I've heard _enough _of your games!"

The Dark Lord laughed as he rose to a standing position, the light of his saber pulsating like a panicked man's heartbeat.

**"How long will you attempt to evade the truth? What do you have to trust but yourself? What does your heart tell you?"** the Sith said, sauntering forwards. **"The Republic betrayed you. The Grand Army betrayed you. The Jedi left you on this planet to die. Does not your soul cry aloud for release?"**

"_Enough_!" Kherev screamed, and attacked.

**...**

Aaron snatched a frag grenade with desperate speed, fingering the sloping curve of the trigger. He pressed the switch, backed several paces away from the wall, and with all his strength hurled the explosive directly at it.

The resulting blast of flame and smoke sent stones, dirt, and gravel tumbling down on Aaron's head, but the wall still held, despite a huge, circular indent in its center. Aaron looked down when he felt a stab of pain in his left leg – some of the shrapnel was embedded in his knee.

The Padawan's cheeks flushed crimson with anger. He seized a second grenade and lobbed it, too, at the wall.

And that was the breaking point.

Rocks burst apart with an ear-splitting bang that was immediately drowned out by the roar of raging, foaming water surging forth, all the indifferent force of nature pressing into the cave.

In his plan, Darksaber had overlooked a single, crucial detail. Although he knew the planet Ryisyyyk as intimately as he knew the Dark Side of the Force, although this very cave had been the site of his transformation, he had entirely failed to take the river into account. The river that conveniently ran directly against the cave's back wall.

The water broke through in a single, uncontrollable wave with all the hunger of a starving beast from the Geonosian arenas.

Aaron Earthshaker braced himself, arms outstretched, and held his breath as the wall of water came on.

**...**

The Togruta tore forwards, an animal whirlwind now, slashing at Darksaber's head, at his neck, at his arms and legs and chest, and failing, again and again – failing. All his training rendered useless. All the foundation of his upbringing, of his life, of his goals, hollow and meaningless against this warrior's words.

"I don't know who or what you are... but you know nothing of me, Dark Lord – _nothing_!" Kherev spluttered. He struck again, a second time, a third time. _Deflected_. Heat boiled in his stomach. "I am a _Jedi_!" he shouted, hacking wildly at his enemy. "I preserve _peace_. I defend the _freedom_ of the _galaxy_!"

Darksaber took a step back. Coolly, simply, he said, **"Do **_**you**_** feel free, Kherev?"**

"_Lies_! All of this is _lies_!" Kherev stabbed with his saberstaff, each movement sharp, each attack meant to be the killing blow. "I am a _Jedi_! A _peacekeeper_! A servant of the _Light_!"

**"Are you, Kherev? Or are you merely running from the dark? Running from yourself?"**

Kherev's blade whirled about him at such a velocity, he seemed to be standing in a golden pillar of flame.

"I am a _Jedi_!" he burst out, and sprung forwards.

**"You speak that word as though it can consume your darkness," **Darksaber said, smashing Kherev against the wall with a telekinetic blow. **"Tell me, boy – will you still be a servant of the Light when there is nowhere left to hide?"**

Kherev couldn't breathe. Vertigo gripped him. He leaned against the wall for support.

"I – I –"

What was he trying to say?

_I don't know? I don't care? I don't believe your lies? I don't trust myself? I don't trust the Jedi? I can't hide for much longer?_

There was a sound of rumbling - not unlike the crushing, grinding, pounding sensation in the Jedi Knight's head. Hero and villain turned in unison, staring incredulously. The sound rose and peaked, drowning all else.

Before he could consider anything further, Kherev Ra'shah was struck head-on by a wall of water.

The wave hit, crashing over and under and around them. Darksaber had vanished from sight. The most Kherev could do was somehow return his saberstaff to his belt. He flailed in the rush of liquid, squeezing his eyes shut, trying not to breathe.

He let the flow carry him away.

**...**

Julia Star heard the all-consuming noise, but it took a moment for her to realize what it was.

Thirty-nine connected the dots before she did. He attached his weapon to his belt and grasped her arm with urgency. "Hold on to me!" he warned. "And don't breathe!"

She opened her mouth to ask what was happening. In the same second, the water surrounded them both – the force of it tore the clone from Julia's arm, and she choked, convulsing underwater. Bubbles of oxygen spurted up in a tornado. She flung her arms about wildly, trying to catch hold of something.

Then she felt solid grass and dirt and stone and... ground... beneath her. She opened her eyes. Her vision still swam.

Thirty-nine was stumbling towards her. Kherev was on his hands and knees, convulsing, retching violently. Water spurted from his mouth as he coughed up his last meal.

But where was –

Aaron's hands were sweeping under her. Julia cried out in surprise as he lifted her, one hand under her back, the other supporting her legs.

"Go!" Aaron blared at the others. "_Go_! Now!"

Julia turned her head to look behind them as he broke into a sprint, carrying her. Darksaber was nowhere to be seen, lost in the chaos of the river. Julia sighed and closed her eyes, letting herself hang limply in Aaron's arms.

There was still so much anguish she couldn't shut out. Every step Aaron took made her wound flare with fresh pain.

"I'm here," he rasped as he sprinted.

"Of course you are." Julia laughed, managing a small smile. "You say that a lot."

Aaron couldn't help but grin. He increased his pace, clutching Julia tightly against him. "Was that an attempt at sarcasm?"

"Yes," Julia said, and then she blacked out.

**A/N: **One of the biggest and most important scenes – complete. I am so happy! This was the first scene I dreamed for this story. I can't believe it's written out.

I already know the general direction this plot is going, and I intend to finish it. I know how it will end, and I know the major incidents that will carry it to its inevitable conclusion. I even have a few scattered ideas for a more improbable possible sequel.

Happy New Year, everyone! 2012. Yikes.

Thanks for the reviews!


	27. Chapter XXVI: Aftershocks

_**Chapter XXVI: Aftershocks**_

In the lonely bowels of a soaking-wet cave, a gloved hand reached up and clutched at the crumbling wall for support. Blood and stone, gravel and corpses, rations and grenades, all lay scattered, the remains of a massacre. The gloved hand stretched up blindly towards the wall, trembling – not with pain, not with fatigue, not with terror, but with _rage_.

Shaking, the fingers dug into a crevice in the rock, taking hold.

A cloaked warrior slowly rose to his feet. The whirlwind in his head made his whole body shake, like a thermal detonator primed to explode. Ticking precious seconds quietly away. Counting down the time before all hell breaks loose.

How could this have happened?

Gone.

Vanished.

The bulk of his army, his strategy, the Jedi –

**"Father," **he sighed, wondering if the spirits of his ancestors could hear him. **"**_**Father**_**!" **The name tasted sour, bitter on his tongue, pungent with long-suppressed memories.

_Heartless Jedi, swords drawn, all hacking their way through the sea of men... Bodies of warriors, bleeding away, banished from the land of the living... His father's big, coarse fist, still clenched around his crimson-stained spear, though his eyes have already closed in death..._

Darksaber breathed hard.

The moist, sickly air reeked of dead soldiers.

The spirits of his ancestors: they must hear him, bound to the Force as he was. They must know he has failed; he has failed them, failed himself, failed his people –

"**I **_**promise**_** you," **Darksaber said, his voice vehement, on the edge of a scream. **"I **_**swear**_** by the **_**Living Force**_**, by all powers **_**past**_** and **_**present**_**, by the name of my **_**clan**_**, of my **_**family**_**, of my **_**people**_**!" **His fists shook. **"I **_**will **_**avenge you."**

In the dead, alien quiet, a black lightsaber blazed to life.

"**Father," **Darksaber hissed, and the sound was like poison gas slowly leaking into the atmosphere. An eternal lifetime of agony welled up inside the warrior. He leaned against the wall, his soul crushed. His plans dashed. But still, he burned with hate. With power. With resolve.

He swore aloud, **"My people... I will **_**not**_** fail you again."**

**...**

The only thing that helped Julia Star stay calm was breathing: In. Out. In. Out. A steady pattern, a distraction from the stabbing _pain _–

The Padawan gritted her teeth. _Breathe in... Breathe out. _She had to be strong, not just for herself, but for everyone else. _Inhale... exhale._

Had she died? No, she must be alive. Pain couldn't exist beyond life, could it? Had she slept? She didn't know. She was like the river from behind their old cave, breaking through the wall, carried by gravity alone, unable to control her own path.

_Breathe in... Breathe out._

She was the ocean – a whirlpool, a spinning, foaming emptiness, carried by forces outside of itself. Tossed about, battered – but not destroyed. Drowning, but never suffocated. Alone in this shell, in this private world of pain, unable to form words, unable to move, unable to do anything voluntarily but breathe.

_Inhale... exhale._

Aaron stood over her protectively, still braced for anything and everything. Julia wondered why he was still so tense. She'd be fine, Darksaber was gone, there was only the pain, and surely it would have to end eventually...

Aaron was saying something. It was hard to make out meaning in words through all the pain, but she heard them vaguely. They entered and exited her mind in a swift motion, like a breeze blowing absently through, not pausing long enough for her to make sense of it all.

"Kherev, you have to _do _something to stop the bleeding," Aaron said. "If she keeps lapsing in and out of consciousness, she's going to die altogether."

"I can't yet." Kherev wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "It hasn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet, for crying out loud!"

They'd found a new cave in less than a day? Julia thought, _It must have been longer than that._

Wondering hurt. Thinking hurt. _Life _hurt. Shut it away: that's all she wanted to do. Drift, swim in the nothingness, locked inside the distance... but still, the pain...

_Breathe in... Breathe out._

"She's dying," Aaron said. "If she dies because you needed more time to _rest _–"

"Listen to me!" Kherev hissed through gritted teeth. "I've exhausted my connection to the Force. If I try _anything _now, I could hurt her even more. And she's not strong enough to handle anything else!"

Dying? Connection? Hurt her more?

Julia somehow found meaning. Meaning formed thought. Thought formed pain. Through the pain, words somehow formed on her lips.

"Kherev..." Julia's voice sounded underwater. "Please... try. Something..."

Kherev stared hard at her pallid face, as if searching for some sign. Couldn't he see the desperation in her eyes? The anguish?

_Inhale... exhale._

After a moment, Kherev hung his head and sighed. "I can't do it," he spat. "You have to hold on until –"

"How do you know she can?" said another voice.

Who's voice?

It was Thirty-nine, Julia's brain registered. The clone had somehow found the courage to challenge a Jedi.

He went on, "I've seen enough war to know this doesn't look good. You can't just stand by and let her bleed. You're a Jedi. Jedi are supposed to do the right thing."

Kherev growled under his breath. "You don't understand! I could hurt her in the healing process!"

"It worked well enough before!" Aaron shouted.

"You have to wait until –"

"Until you've meditated? Until you're feeling up to it? Until she's already lost half the blood in her body?" Aaron's gut felt hollow. "Do you _want _her to _die_?"

"_Enough_!" Kherev roared.

His voice didn't sound like his own. It was guttural, furious, ripping out of him without his consent. The sound of it reverberated in his montrals, making them sting. The Togruta lifted his head, his arms locked at his sides, his hands clenched into fists so tight, the bones of his wrists burned.

"I'll try," he consented. "Now get out of here so I can focus."

Thirty-nine nodded.

But Aaron couldn't seem to make his feet move, nor could he take his stare off of Julia's empty eyes. The clone gripped him by the arm, and the touch brought Aaron back to himself. Awkwardly, stumbling as if through a dream, he made his way out of the new cave, Thirty-nine leading him by the hand.

**...**

Emptying oneself sounded deceptively simple. Just _let go. _Of everything. Past, present, future.

Love. Hate. Passion. Duty. Friends. Enemies.

None of it was easy to release, but Kherev Ra'shah had learned to achieve some form of temporary withdrawal from the physical, tangible, mundane things we call reality. The true challenge wasn't letting things out.

The difficulty was letting the Force _in._

The trouble with the Force was its duality. Light and dark, a strict contrast; the divine heights of morality, and the lowest depths of disregard, all in one power. The ultimate power. The all-encompassing power.

The Living Force.

And in this way, the Force was a mirror. Conflicted and unstable as it might appear from a distance, it was crystal clear up close. No light. No dark. Only pure energy_, _full and alive, the essence of all good _and_ evil.

From far away, there seemed a "Light Side" and a "Dark Side," but when connected... when the Force is around you, and within you, and singing aloud in the midi-chlorians of your blood, the bittersweet refrain in all life – the infinite symphony – it is beyond all. It is everything that one would need it to be, and yet, nothing like what they expected, transcending their wildest dreams.

And nightmares.

Mortals categorize it as a two-faced power. The lock it in a box, file it in the limited, mortal compartments of "good" and "bad." In reality, it is both – and more. It is every path that has and yet will be traveled by men.

It is the inconceivable potential of themselves – for success, failure, or still greater, true _good_.

The Force reveals the deep-running desires of man for love, affection, healing, and fulfillment. It also exposes the buried secrets – the trembling whispers in our ears. The hidden fury. The selfishness. The _hate_.

The Force is all things.

Knows all things.

Can be all things.

The Force is destiny – every tale that could be told, every choice that may yet rewrite the pages of history. It is our best and worst, and the magnitude of the very real decision between them. There is no grey. Merely light – and dark – and a series of doors to be opened or closed, at mortals' discretion.

The Force is the ultimate expression, the ultimate power, of man himself. The Force is mortality, in essence. The Force is _existence._

And the Force is Kherev Ra'shah.

**...**

Losing all thought process in the embrace of the Force, Kherev let his walls come crashing down. His predatory fangs locked together in innate protest, but he did not shove the Force away. Energy filled him, surrounded him, and consumed him – until his very self pulsated and throbbed and _glowed _with it.

He feared this. This unparalleled _knowing _of oneself...

The reeking hate he had for authority – it was truly like a stench in this place. Revulsion shuddered through him, and it became a physical shake, an intense chill in his blood, unlike anything that he had ever felt before.

The passion, the drive within him – be someone, do something, get somewhere – this was Kherev's unspoken code, and in the Force it stung like a snake bite.

The _rage. _The anger. No one had the right to restrain him... _No!_ The immoral thought burned, physically, so close he was to the Force.

A feral hiss slipped out from between the grating, grinding teeth. The sanguine lines of the alien face tightened. The eyes filled with blood.

He should have waited. Should have cleared his mind, emptied his head, before entering the Force – before this ate him alive here, like some disease. The fatal plague of his own self...

An animal, primal need seized him like a fist.

Lock the door. Keep them out. Keep the world out, because they can never see this part of him. And Jedi do not feel these things. Jedi are _stronger _than this –

A blazing-hot stab to his mind, like a jab from an electrostaff. _Another_ mind. Here. Seeing Kherev for the beast he was.

Who's mind?

Stressed. Fearful, but masked by anger. It was – it was – Aaron Earthshaker.

Aaron. _Here. _Entering his soul...

Kherev barred the mental doors, double-locked them, pressed all his weight and force against them, holding them shut. Get him out. He had to get Aaron out. _Now._

Kherev raised his mental fist and mentally punched Aaron as hard as he could.

The Jedi Knight was nearly doubled over, hands clawing at the stone beneath, fingernails scraping blindly at the ground. Aloud, a low growl came through the Togruta's shaking jaw. "Get _out _of my _head_!"

But this trance had begun as a healing process. And Julia Star was still connected with the Togruta, as well.

Kherev snapped out of his trance when he heard the Padawan scream.

**...**

The Force ebbed.

The physical world returned in a flash of blinding light.

The healed flesh of Julia's stomach had torn open again, just enough to allow a fresh trickle of blood to start flowing out. Thirty-nine was at her side with a medpac, assuring her that the damage was minimal and she would be fine and the medpac would stop the bleeding – for now.

Aaron raced across the cave. He was beside her in an instant, examining the damage. "Are you alright? Julia, answer me! Are you okay?"

Julia said, "I'm fine, it just... I... It _burns_." She swallowed hard, and said again, "It burns."

And then Aaron was gripping Kherev's shoulders. "What did you _do _to her?"

"I warned you of repercussions!" Kherev tried to pull away, but the grip on his arms was like claws.

"You might have _killed _her!" Aaron shrieked.

"You _invaded _my head–"

"Because you were scratching at the floor like a rabid nexu! What is _wrong _with you?"

"I – you – I just – did I give you permission to _read my mind_?"

Aaron shook the Jedi Knight until his skull rattled. "Kherev, what did you _do _to her?"

Kherev found himself baring his teeth. "I was trying to –"

"Answer me!"

"But you –"

"_Answer _me!" Aaron yelled, his voice dropping an octave.

"I –"

Kherev Ra'shah stumbled back into the wall when Aaron's knuckles struck the side of his face.

It took a whole minute before the Togruta could breathe. He stared silently, indignantly at Aaron, his mouth half-open in shock, his teeth half-bared – but no words would emerge. Eventually, when he found his voice, he was surprised by how young it sounded. There was no malice in it – merely cool disbelief, and the muted animosity of wounded pride.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Kherev said.

Aaron looked down at his arm as if it had struck the blow without his willing it. "I... I'm sorry, Kherev." He took a sharp breath. "I –"

"Save it." Kherev squared his shoulders and turned to Thirty-nine. "Take Julia to the back of the cave, where she can rest. I..." He looked away. "I need some time to think," he said in a rush.

The clone nodded and lifted Julia up from the ground, carrying her deeper into the corridor. Soon they were gone from view, lost inside the darkness. It was deathly silent.

About a minute passed without a word, until Aaron finally broke the awkward quiet. "Kherev?" he said.

The Togruta's eyes narrowed; already, he was prepared for an attack. "What?"

"I shouldn't have done that," Aaron said. "You care. I know you do, I just... I'm sorry. You do care, or you would have given in."

Kherev repeated, "What?" But there was a note of confusion in his voice.

"I... I gave into my anger," Aaron said. "During our duel with Darksaber. And you didn't. You were stronger than me, and if not for that... we'd all be dead."

Kherev took a deep breath. He closed his eyes.

_Had _he been stronger?

Images flashed before him – his shrieks of denial, his rapid, anger-fueled hacking at Darksaber with his sword, his inability to respond to the Dark Lord's final question.

_Will you still be a servant of the light when there is nowhere left to hide?_

Kherev opened his eyes. He stared into space.

Aaron concluded, "I owe you one, okay? Are we even?"

The Jedi Knight somehow found his voice. "Sure," he said numbly, still looking away from Aaron.

Aaron let out the breath he had been involuntarily holding. "Alright, then," he said, almost laughing with relief. "Good." He shook his wrists; they were sore from being clenched nervously at his sides. "I'll go make sure Julia's okay," he blurted out, and he turned to run off into the cave.

Even after the Padawan was gone, it was several minutes before Kherev moved.

When he was sure no one could see him, he sank down, leaning against the wall – his head hanging, his blood-red eyes closed. His mind reeled. His stomach churned, tying into tight knots tangled around his chest that made it hard to breathe.

Kherev Ra'shah sat down on a stone and buried his head in his hands.

**A/N: **I did a little wordplay at the end. In case you missed it (you probably did; I'll explain why) here's the deal. Remember the chapter titled "Whirlwind"? When Aaron attacked Alk Koth's killers, argued with Rach'ta, struck out on his own, and ultimately was left swimming in questions? Well, the last sentence of that chapter was:

"Aaron Earthshaker sat down on a stone and buried his head in his hands."

He's overwhelmed by uncertainty, and paralyzed by his own anger, by his own darkness. Darkness that Kherev denies exists within himself. The last sentence of this chapter was:

"Kherev Ra'shah sat down on a stone and buried his head in his hands."

Kherev has the same darkness, the same struggle. I wanted to show that in a unique way. Just thought I'd point that out in case you missed it!

I give my younger sister credit for the concept of having Kherev accidentally injure Julia in the healing process. It was her idea! Go figure. My mythology behind it is that Kherev heals by directly influencing the midi-chlorians in the blood of Jedi. As a result, he can "create life" like Darth Plaguis in the story that Palpatine told to Anakin. But since Kherev is influencing the midi-chlorians, it can work backwards, as well. He can injure people, just like he can heal, if he loses control and lashes out with anger, as he did here.

Also, I've officially created a list of songs that define my characters, the story itself, and the romance subplot. It was more for my sake, but I thought I'd give it to you guys, in case you were curious. Mostly, it's music from some of my favorite Christian rock bands, but there's also some Linkin Park and stuff. I own all the following songs, except for "All of Me" and "Indestructible"... but I've heard them both, and they fit my story well. It was a little tough to narrow down the song options, but here they are.

You reading this far makes you officially awesome, so here goes, if you're interested –

**Darksaber:  
><strong>1. Faceless (Red)  
>2. Invincible (Skillet)<br>3. Move (Thousand Foot Krutch)  
>4. Papercut (Linkin Park)<p>

**Kherev:  
><strong>1. Break Me Down (Red)  
>2. Fingernails (Skillet)<br>3. Scream (Thousand Foot Krutch)  
>4. Faint (Linkin Park)<p>

**Aaron:  
><strong>1. Shadows (Red)  
>2. Whispers in the Dark (Skillet)<br>3. Step to Me (Thousand Foot Krutch)  
>4. In the End (Linkin Park)<p>

**Julia:  
><strong>1. What You Want (Evanescence)  
>2. Hold (Superchick)<br>3. Unbreakable (Fireflight)  
>4. Indestructible (Britt Nicole)<p>

**Thirty-Nine:  
><strong>1. Dark Horses (Switchfoot)  
>2. Live Free or Let Me Die (Skillet)<p>

3. Shook (Thousand Foot Krutch)  
>4. Breaking the Habit (Linkin Park)<p>

**The Love Story (Aaron/Julia):  
><strong>1. All of Me (Matt Hammit)  
>2. Never Surrender (Skillet)<p>

3. Safe (Britt Nicole)  
>4. Your Love is a Song (Switchfoot)<strong><br>**

**Overall Theme Songs:  
><strong>1. Let It Burn (Red)  
>2. Rebirthing (Skillet)<br>3. The Flame In All Of Us (Thousand Foot Krutch)  
>4. Tonight (TobyMac)<p>

**Trailer Music (if this story were a movie, this would be the music for the theatrical trailer... hey, let a girl dream!):**

Emergence of Empire (Immediate)

Sorry if this author's note is too long. Peace out, fellow Jedi. May the Force be with you!


	28. Chapter XXVII: Precipice

_** Chapter XXVII: Precipice**_

Julia supposed that she should have expected Aaron to follow her and Thirty-nine – but it irritated her, all the same. Aaron never could seem to leave her alone. She was about to protest when Thirty-nine lowered her to the ground, triggering a fresh wave of pain that made her bite her lip on a scream.

Aaron kneeled beside her. "Did the healing help at all?"

"Yes," Julia managed, but her voice was choked. She clenched her teeth together for a moment, and then tried again; but her speech was still broken. "You didn't – have to – do that to Kherev. We... _need_ him."

"I know," Aaron said. "I'm just glad you're alright, okay?"

Julia growled under her breath. "You can go – Aaron, I'm –" She tried to sit up in an effort to prove her point, but cried out as she did so. "– fine," she finished, a note of anger in her tone. Her breathing accelerated into a stressed, unnatural rhythm.

"I'm not going... _anywhere_," Aaron said with finality. "Not so long as you're like this."

Julia sighed, leaning back to rest her head on the stone ground. _Doesn't he get it? I don't want him here._ She wanted nothing more right now than to simply be left alone so she could sleep, but she didn't have enough energy left to challenge Aaron with any degree of resolve in her voice.

_I can take care of myself! _she mentally screamed.

Almost immediately, the profound hopelessness of such a claim struck her like a physical blow. Take care of herself, could she? _Sure_. And she'd still been easily bested by Darksaber, wounded within an inch of her life, and left unable to even stand.

Julia wished she were a better liar. Maybe then she could convince herself that she didn't need anyone, that she didn't _want _anyone. But most of all – that the last person she wanted to see was _him_...

She still didn't have the nerve to order him away. She was pathetic. Seriously, she couldn't need him. She was a Jedi – she could hold her own with a lightsaber; she could deflect an approaching enemy with the Force before they could even near her; she could even sense the future, on occasion.

How she wished she could see what the future held now.

But one thing she knew – she didn't, she _couldn't _need Aaron. She was strong enough to get through life without his constant help, wasn't she? She had to be. Because _she _was gone – her kind, selfless Master, wounded by her own soldiers' weapons, doubling over, falling, suddenly nothing but the pale, limp corpse of a purple Twi'lek, hanging lifelessly in a weeping Padawan's trembling arms...

Julia had to be strong. Had to prove that all that training had done its job... that her Master had made her capable of handling herself.

That Order 66 couldn't take everything away from her.

The Sith couldn't destroy her completely. She would _not _surrender her dignity now, requiring someone else to hold her together. That would only let them win. Let them take her apart from the inside out.

She was a Jedi. That meant she needed _no one_... didn't it?

Darksaber's words reverberated inside her skull. _You are nothing. You are no one. You will die alone, a traitor to the Republic, an enemy of my people..._

A Jedi, was she? A voice inside said, _Not anymore._

Julia hopelessly lifted one hand to finger a Padawan braid that wasn't there.

Would she ever convince Earthshaker to leave her alone? Not in this state. Not while she kept letting herself delve back into these memories... memories that she so desperately wanted to forget...

Julia stared at the ceiling. She swallowed. "I'm not going to die, Aaron," she said.

Aaron tripped over his own words. "Good," he managed.

"Come on," Thirty-nine prompted. "Let's go. She needs her rest."

Aaron's eyes moved from Julia to the clone, and then back to Julia. He shook his head, as if it trying to disperse some fog that had gathered around his mind. "Right," he said. He turned stiffly away, but he couldn't make his feet move. He stood stock-still, a statue, an outgrowth of the rock of the cave.

After a split second of total silence, he hung his head and said, "Julia, please. I'll go if you really want me to, but... just listen to me, okay? I'm worried to death about you right now, and if you would just let me stay..."

Aaron's voice trailed off. He turned to look Julia in the eyes.

"I can't stand thinking you might start bleeding again or something after I leave," he said. "I just – I don't – please let me stay. I'll let you sleep, I promise. I'll leave you alone; I won't bother you; I'll shut up –"

"Let's _go_, Aaron," Thirty-nine said, his voice harder.

Aaron stared at the floor for a moment. Then he turned away. "Fine," he spat, and his tone was venom. "Let's go," he sighed, defeated, and began to walk away.

And somehow, that did it.

Seeing him like that, so vulnerable before her, so desperate to just be near her, even if she never wanted to speak a word to him again – it was enough to make Julia break. He didn't want her for her encouragement, for her advice, for her laughter. He wanted none of that.

He just wanted to be near her, in silence, if need be. Even if she hated him for that unexpected kiss on that long, lonely night.

Julia found her voice. "No, Aaron," she said. "Stay."

Aaron, who was already walking away, froze where he stood.

"Stay," Julia repeated.

Aaron looked at Thirty-nine.

The clone sighed. "Alright," he relented. "But first, I – I need to talk to you, Earthshaker."

"Sure." Aaron couldn't disguise the relief in his voice. His cheeks flushed crimson as he nodded at Julia. Then he turned and quickly followed the clone outside.

The sky was a deep black vault, and a string of massive, voluminous, cumulus clouds was drawn across it. The stars, (although Aaron told himself they must be up there somewhere,) had disappeared behind the thick cloud cover.

The moonlight shone off of Aaron's sweat-soaked, tan skin, also reflecting a pale blue off of Thirty-nine's armor, causing long, grotesque shadows to stretch out across the grass.

The clone looked at Aaron. Then he stared off into space. "D-Do you still consider yourself a Jedi?" he stammered.

Aaron half-laughed in disbelief. "Of course! What are you talking about?"

The clone swore under his breath. "I'm not blind!"

"_What_?"

"I've seen the way you watch her," the soldier said. "Like you're her best friend... or her brother... or you've known each other all your lives..." His voice trailed off. "You – I – _dang it_! I really don't want to talk about this, but – you're a Jedi."

"And I care about her," Aaron said.

"You expect me to believe that's all there is to it?" Thirty-nine yelled, seizing the Padawan by the arm. "Tell me the _truth_! I'm on _your side_, for crying out loud!" His voice dropped to a low, serious octave. "Do you love her, Earthshaker?"

Aaron swallowed. He took a deep breath and answered, "Yes."

"The Order doesn't allow that," the clone retorted. "Does it?"

"Aren't the Jedi _encouraged _to love?" Aaron countered. "Thirty-nine – after all we've been through, you're going to accuse me because I _care about her_? I saved both your lives, remember? You would both be dead if not for me! And you're angry because I _love_ _her_?" Aaron paused, and then sighed. "I don't want to have to bury her," he said in a quieter voice. "That's not a sin."

"Jedi are forbidden to love," the clone stated. "Correct?"

Aaron glowered at the clone. "This isn't your place, Thirty-nine."

The soldier shook his head.

"I know," he said. "I _know_. But – it's just – I get the feeling that you're standing on the edge of something important. Like you're on a precipice, and one wrong move could send you diving off the cliff. If you die – we'll all die. We need everyone alive, Aaron, or we'll all go down together. It's only a matter of time. "

Aaron balled both his hands into fists. He couldn't argue against this. The clone's sober evaluation of everything was getting to him. "I love her," he repeated.

"How long have you two even _known _each other?"

"Long enough!" Aaron shouted.

"Have you ever heard," the clone pressed, "that love is blind?"

"I love her," Aaron growled. "She is different from anyone I have ever cared about. She helps me _think. _I swear, she is the only person I've ever met that _never _gave up hope in this war, and without that – nothing matters."

Thirty-nine placed a hand on the Padawan's shoulder. "I know you care for her. But Jedi –"

"Jedi can't love _anyone_, is that it?"

"I don't want you to be blind, that's all. I know the Jedi say love can lead to the Dark Side."

"This love is not _evil._"

"But it's wrong," Thirty-nine blurted out.

"You don't understand," Aaron said. "I feel... _different _around her. Everything's clearer. I feel _alive_ around her. That can't be wrong. It _can't_."

"Your Code says it is."

"The Code forbids love that's _selfish_. It forbids passion, it forbids shortsighted attachment, it forbids misdirected intimacy, but this – this isn't like that. It's like I can't stand to think of leaving her without me. She reminds me why I became a Jedi, why I'm still fighting, even now. I need to be there for her. I'm a Jedi to love people, and I love her. Like I've never loved anyone."

Thirty-nine tightened his grip on Aaron's shoulder. "You're going to tell me it's some kind of selfless sacrifice?" he snorted. "I don't believe it! You're _fifteen_."

"Sixteen next month," Aaron snapped, defiantly. "And what does it matter?"

"You don't understand the world at your age. You... haven't seen the things I've seen. Innocents condemned. Children killed in bombardments. Limbs. _Burning_..." The clone turned away, years of pain in his voice. "You don't know what love is. What it _costs_."

"But it's love," Aaron answered. "Isn't it – _worth _it?"

"Sometimes," the clone said, "even that's not enough, Aaron."

"Then what _are _we supposed to hold on to?" Aaron shot back.

The soldier sighed. He said nothing in reply. Because words failed him.

"Well, I love her," Aaron stated. "Call it what you want. I may be younger than you, but at least I still remember how to hope."

Thirty-nine bit his tongue. "Go on and catch up with her, then," he spat; but he quickly added, "Grab some firewood so she doesn't freeze to death," with a spiteful sting in his tone.

Aaron nodded and ran off towards the forest.

Once the Padawan was out of earshot, Thirty-nine cursed to himself. Jedi in love. His brothers serving a Sith. All the world a hurricane. And the truth of the newly risen Empire, still locked inside him, weighing down on him. Trying to break out. But he couldn't tell the Jedi, couldn't bash their courage now – not with so much _at stake _– not when they were so close to losing hope –

_Hope. _That brought the clone back to his worst dilemma. Had he really forgotten how to hope? Aaron had just defied the Jedi Code itself, in the name of hope.

Sometimes, Thirty-nine wondered if the Jedi were on his side. If they were on the right side. If he himself had even chosen a side, yet. Were there sides at all?

No answers. Never answers. So the clone silenced the questions and decided it was due time for him to get ready for guard duty.

**...**

**A/N: **More romance to come! Also, I'll fix the typing errors in the last chapter. _Ugh! _They're a curse!

Thank you _so much _for the reviews, Freelancer Seal and Master Jessie. I can't even explain how excited you two make me. This is my first big project, and the feedback is a huge deal. It's the main reason I'm working towards drawing this story to a logical conclusion. So thank you, and may the Force be with you. You're awesome!


	29. Chapter XXVIII: Those Nights

_**Chapter XXVIII: Those Nights**_

Total darkness is known to cause claustrophobia, and it was no different for Julia Star. Had she been able to walk, she would have promptly put such feelings to rest – but wounded as she was, she could not rise to feel the rough planes of the rocky wall, nor could she stand and wander about in the generous space the new cave afforded.

The claustrophobia that hung over Julia only thickened with time. She began to feel as though the new cave were some beast, the jagged walls truly rows of jagged teeth, and the massive, toothy maw of the corridor truly a colossal mouth, opened wide to swallow her whole.

Julia could barely even shift her position without causing a staggering revival of the pain. She simply lay still, drinking in the air. It tasted... moist. Musty, somehow. Ancient. She could only take it in short gulps, and even these were rough in her lungs – sharp pinpricks in her throat, and chest, and ribs, each time that she swallowed.

They never had determined for sure whether or not she had any broken bones. Well, she would just have to wait it out.

And hope that the next round of Force Healing would produce better results.

After a while, Julia closed her eyes; they were doing her no good in the endless, empty darkness that the cave became at night. She trembled, and the trembling became a shiver in all her nerves, and the shiver became violent, racking shakes that made her whole body quiver in the icy air.

She was so _cold_.

Her utter inability to change this in any way, shape, or form made her bones feel heavy. Her whole body seemed to triple in weight, all her muscles so _sore_. A crushing bulk seemed to press down upon her, making her feel as if she were stuck to the floor, pressed down against it, too weak to push the ever-encroaching blackness away.

She was so _tired_.

Tired beyond belief.

A dull light came into focus – an orange-red orb suspended in the atmosphere. Julia's head snapped up in instinctive panic. The ball of light bobbed uncertainly in the distance, somewhere deep in the corridor, and slowly, it seemed to come closer, growing larger and larger as it neared Julia, and occasionally coughing out showers of bright sparks that settled on the stone floor, glowing faintly for a few seconds before dying out altogether.

The light.

A trap sent to kill them? A torch to light the way? A hallucination – the result of a concussion, or some other injury that Kherev hadn't detected? A dream? A nightmare?

The blade of another Sith Lord, come to finish her off?

Julia nearly jumped. Her muscles tightened; her chest tightened. The pain tightened into a stabbing, focused sting.

Then a voice. "It's me, Julia, it's me," said a boy, and she knew it was him.

The fear slunk away to bury itself in the dark corners where it could still hide, and the pain retreated to the back of Julia's mind, shrinking away, just slightly – but she could breathe again. She was no longer exhausted. To the contrary, she was awake now, almost entirely awake. Not because she feared danger in the night, but because _he _was here, and in the moment that's all she thought.

_He's here._

Julia sat up as much as she could manage, and she smiled. It felt like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day. A stream of gold, breaking through the storm.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey," he said.

**...**

By the soft torchlight, Aaron saw her smile at the sight of him, and for a second, he nearly forgot how injured she was – she seemed so _alive_. But as she propped herself up on her elbows to greet him, the smile twisted awry into a lopsided wince as her pain revived.

Julia groaned. "Gosh, darn it," she muttered through her teeth. But she didn't try to pull any of that _I'm perfectly fine _nonsense on him again, which was good, because he wouldn't have believed her, anyway.

Aaron placed his pile of wood on the ground and laid the torch upon it. It blazed up almost instantly, a warm light that sent the darkness – and Julia's claustrophobia – scurrying away for a more suitable place to settle down.

"Thanks, Aaron," Julia said.

"No problem," he insisted, and sat down beside her.

A minute passed without a word, and Julia wondered why he didn't say something. That was when she remembered his promise to let her sleep, if that was really what she wanted. A confused mixture of surprise, sadness, and relief ran through her mind, but she ultimately settled on relief as the most logical response to Aaron's kindness.

Finally – relief.

Julia didn't think she could stand to be alone tonight. A stab of guilt at recruiting Aaron for the purpose struck her, but she reflexively pushed it away.

_It's not like I'm bothering him... Right?_

Julia looked over at him, trying to gauge his emotions by his facial expression, which could now be clearly seen by the firelight. What she saw there caught her off guard.

Aaron was watching her intently, his cinnamon eyes fixed upon her face. For a moment, she was lost inside those eyes – lost inside those backwards, messed-up memories of that nightmare-filled evening, and his hand holding hers, and his lips moving with her own...

Julia looked away, embarrassed. _Embarrassed of what? _she wondered. Her thoughts? Her own inability to pinpoint how she felt about them, and more importantly, about _him_? The fact that she obviously wanted him here, and had made it unfortunately obvious?

He was still watching her. She tried not to meet his eyes again. Whether horror at her sorry state at the moment or boyish fascination with her held his gaze, she did not know, and did not wish to know.

Still, the chocolate-brown irises probed her features. After a moment, Julia realized that Aaron wasn't looking into her eyes – but slightly aside.

"Is... something wrong?" she stuttered, dazed.

Aaron extended one hand towards her face, fingering her hair as if he were seeing it for the first time. She turned her head aside, but he couldn't seem to take a hint. When he finally pulled his hand away from her hair, he sounded utterly bewildered.

"What happened to your Padawan braid?"

Julia opened her mouth to reply, but no sound emerged. She gritted her teeth, trying to figure out how she was going to phrase this. Words seemed inadequate for explaining the way it had felt to watch her dignity fall away in shreds...

"Darksaber... removed it," Julia managed.

Aaron's tone dropped an octave. "How?"

"His lightsaber."

At that, Aaron reached to push her hair away from the side of her face – and indeed, the skin there had clearly been singed by the edge of a white-hot blade.

Julia slapped his hand away angrily. She knew the braid was gone; did he really have to draw so much attention to it? "I know," she sighed, her voice both angry and empty at the same time. "I suppose I'm not a Padawan anymore."

There was a beat of silence.

"You're right," Aaron agreed. Julia's anger flared; she imagined how good it would feel to hit him, but then he said, "You're a Jedi Knight now."

Julia wanted to stand defiantly. She wanted to slap him, to scream in his face that he was dead wrong, that her Padawan braid being gone meant her status was gone, her future was gone, and again, the same awful truth – her Master was gone...

Instead, Julia remained still, propped up on her elbows – but she snarled at him, each word like a blow: "There should have been a _ceremony_, a _ritual_, a riteof_ passage_! The Jedi Trials. The consent of the Council. _Master Merona_!"

"She would have deemed this madness trial enough," Aaron objected.

Julia hung her head, her breathing jagged, and not just from her wound. Somehow, she found herself stammering, "He told me I was... no one. Nothing." She swallowed. "I... I..."

Words would not express what she was thinking. Words could not explain all she'd lost. All the people she loved, dead. All her friends, hunting her like an animal. All she could have become, all she could have done for the Republic, trampled.

"I thought Order sixty-six couldn't take everything away from you," Aaron said.

Julia saw their first night together in her mind's eye. The sky full of stars. Their chase in the grass, so free, like she was only a child again. Her response when Aaron insisted they go somewhere safer.

_I can't let Order sixty-six take _everything _away from me..._

She didn't answer Aaron. Her throat was too tight for words to form – constricted with unshed tears.

Aaron placed one hand on her back. She leaned away from him, and he pulled away, moving his palm to her shoulder.

"I swear," he whispered. "I swear, Julia, you reminded me how to believe. How not to give up. How to never surrender, no matter what. Do you hear me? _No matter what_! Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Julia nodded stiffly. She took a sharp breath.

"Don't you dare give in now," Aaron said. "Not after you've come this far. Not after you survived Order sixty-six, broke into a heavily armed base, hijacked an ARC-170, escaped a crash landing, took out more clones than I can count, came out alive after that massacre..."

Aaron's voice trailed off. He moved his other hand to Julia's _other _shoulder, gripping them both with urgency. "You have _never _given in. And you are _not_ giving in now. You're _strong enough_, Julia. I _know_ you are. Don't you _dare_ give in now. Do you hear me?"

Julia raised her head. She set her jaw and swallowed hard.

"I understand," she said.

Aaron released her arms, his expression darkening. "And I swear to you, I will _not _let Darksaber hurt you again."

Julia suddenly found herself unable to look the Padawan in the eyes. She blurted out, "Promise me something, Aaron."

"What?"

She was silent for a moment, mustering her courage; and finally, she looked him straight in the face. "Promise me that you won't make yourself responsible for punishing the world," she said. "Promise me that you'll never try to bring justice."

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"_Promise _me," Julia repeated, more harshly.

Aaron punched the ground. "I – I – _aagh_! You don't know what you're saying. You have no _idea_... I, I swear, Julia, if I don't have Darksaber's head for what he did to you –"

"He did it in the name of _justice,_" Julia interrupted, in a low growl. "The Jedi killed his ancestors. As far as he's concerned, I deserve the same fate. Real _justice_."

Aaron found himself speechless, wide-eyed, and red in the face.

This? _This _was justice in that animal's eyes? Kherev losing his mind, Thirty-nine a wreck, Julia half-dead, himself on the edge of breaking? All this – the result of taking justice into one's own hands?

He said, "I promise."

**...**

**A/N: **More to come! I promise! I swear by the Living Force – more will come.

Master Jessie – Oh my gosh! You picked up on the Episode II reference! I did that intentionally; you noticing it makes you _officially _awesome. Also, your comments about me making you want to write blew my mind! I love writing, so inspiring you feels awesome. Please, please write some stories so I can R&R! :D

The Freelancer Seal – Ahem. I heard there was this awesome person who edited his Fire Emblem FanFic to death, invented vivid OCs, wrote really well, etcetera... Oh, wait. That's you. STOP DENYING YOUR AWESOMENESS!

Okay, I'm done with my rant.

By the way, the chapter title is also the title of a Skillet song that fits the mood of this chapter well, I think. That's all for now. See you later!


	30. Chapter XXIX: Lights Out

_** Chapter XXIX: Lights Out**_

The _Shadow_'s connection to the HoloNet was annoyingly weak from Ryisyyyk, due to the planet's location on the lonely, tattered fringes of the Outer Rim, but even the static-laced, spasmodically flickering transmission couldn't disguise the casual undercurrent of disdain in Darth Sidious' voice.

"This is an unfortunate development," the hologram murmured.

The Emperor was many things: an ingenious strategist, a clever politician, an unmatched lightsaber duelist, a master of the Dark Side, and so forth. Patience for the most apt time to strike, patience for his enemies to break: this kind of patience was as natural for the Dark Lord as breathing. To wait, to lay concealed within the shadows, his power maturing with time, the pieces of his plan falling into place around him – this kind of patience was second-nature. But patience for fools was something of which Darth Sidious had a profound lack.

In his private chambers on Coruscant, the Emperor was garbed in an elaborate cloak of deep scarlet shimmersilk; the elegant shade of the robe was lost in the hologram, however – reduced to a stark, blue electronic image that was flashing at intervals, occasionally dissolving into an indistinct mass of pixels, due to the _Shadow_'s poor connection to the HoloNet. But despite this – despite the fact that Sidious' wrinkled, withered, mutilated face remained hidden by his hood, despite the fact that his composure was unaltered – his disdain was plain in his voice.

"Most unfortunate," the hologram continued, "that you should fail me again. I warned you once, Darksaber. Truly, I have given you more than enough opportunity. My army, and your prowess, should have easily vanquished Padawans Earthshaker and Star. And yet, you deliver news of defeat."

"**My Emperor," **Darksaber insisted, **"the increased opposition was unanticipated. The arrival of a third Jedi disrupted the plan." **Darksaber's voice rose to a fever pitch, his words tumbling out in quick, sharp succession like blaster bolts. "**He is well-trained, and clever – had he not engaged our troops, the Jedi would have been nearly dead before I had even engaged them directly. And Earthshaker's use of the planet's geographical layout to his advantage was... rash. It could not have been expected. Under more favorable conditions –"**

The Emperor frowned beneath his hood. His voice vibrated like a machine on the brink of overload. "Favorable conditions are never guaranteed in war."

"**I was under the impression that the war was over," **Darksaber growled.

"The Clone Wars? Perhaps," said the Emperor. "But the battle is not truly won until every Jedi is destroyed. I fear I may need to seek other options, given your recent report."

Darksaber clenched one hand into a fist at his side. **"My Lord, considering the information I have now acquired –"**

"You have obtained new intelligence, then?"

"**Yes. The targets have all been located. Their strengths have become clear to me... as have their weaknesses."**

Anger trickled into Darth Sidious' tone. "And what of the third?" he murmured darkly.

Darksaber's fist began to shake. He pressed his knuckles into his ribs, focusing on the pain. It tightened his focus, sharpened his words into weapons.**"The third is a Togruta the others called 'Kherev,'" **he recounted.** "He is armed with an impressively constructed yellow saberstaff."**

"Another Padawan," the Emperor observed. "And a fool – seeking shelter in the Outer Rim."

"**Not so, my Lord. I suspect Kherev has already achieved the rank of Jedi Knight. He is the central reason that the Jedi escaped with their lives."**

There was a long minute of quiet. The air in the cockpit was beginning to heat up, thickening, an omnipresent weight pressing down on the _Shadow_'s master.

Eventually, the Emperor asked, "Is this all you have learned, Darksaber?"

"**No, my Lord," **the warrior explained.** "Rather, I have determined that Padawan Earthshaker is a solidly trained Djem So duelist – but he is given to rage. He refuses to **_**use **_**his fury... and so it weakens him. Padawan Star, however, is well-versed in the Nimen form, but favors defense. She is fearful. It cripples her."**

There was a beat of silence while the Emperor took this in.

"And Kherev?" he asked.

"**He uses an advanced alteration of Ataru – but he has thrown in several tricks of Sokan. He is intelligent, and powerful."**

"He is the most prominent threat, then?"

"**Yes," **said Darksaber. **"He is young, and strong, and acrobatic. **_**Passionate**_**. He is repressed, even now – deceived by the Jedi teachings, bound by their corruption. He may yet be the key to ending this revolt."**

"How so?" asked the Emperor.

"**Earthshaker has unthinkingly provided us with vital information through an exchange he had with Kherev. The Togruta is capable of healing through the Force. Should we capture him, and turn him to our cause – he would be a great asset. And if he should agree to eliminate the other two, our task would have infinitely less further casualties. Kherev's conversion would dash the Jedi's hopes. They would be broken by his betrayal, and this could give us the upper hand in a future confrontation."**

Darth Sidious nodded solemnly.

"Ah," he breathed. "A logical course of action." He paused briefly, deliberating. Wisely selecting his words. Years of feigning ignorance while subsequently manipulating a massive, intergalactic government from within had taught him much about the subtle effect that the right phrase could have. He went on, "However, if Kherev is as skilled as you claim, how is he to be subdued? I have already expended countless troops on this mission, Darksaber. I cannot afford to waste more – and further failure on your part would, I'm afraid, create a most... unpleasant... tension between us."

Darksaber balled his _other_ hand into _another_ fist. Both of them now shook at his sides. **"Kherev's pride is his downfall! He is a Togruta. The proper frequency of sound debilitates the species. An immobile foe is not to be feared, and is certainly not difficult to capture."**

"Yes, yes!" the Emperor crowed. "But are you sure he is not lost?"

Darksaber's voice dropped an octave. His fists unclenched. Something of a smile crawled into his tone. **"Kherev can be turned," **he murmured, as if he were speaking only to himself – as if he were speaking a prophecy. **"I am sure of it."**

Darth Sidious gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Proceed, then. Sufficient reinforcements for the task will be en route. Kill Star and Earthshaker if an opportunity presents itself, but otherwise – concentrate your efforts on the Jedi Knight. I want him alive."

The hologram flickered wildly before dissipating from top to bottom, collapsing immediately into empty air. Darksaber rose from his kneeling position and exited the cockpit of the _Shadow_.

**...**

_Honestly, _Julia reflected, _I'm too nice for my own good._

Had she chosen to keep her mouth shut, close her eyes, and simply fall asleep, Aaron would surely have left her alone. But, of course, she'd been unable to take the wall of tension between them: and had chosen to break it by starting conversation.

She was sure it must be late into the night by now, but how could she tell from so far back in the cave? Her exhaustion – and the pain – were her only reference points. The latter hadn't worsened, but then again... it was already bad enough, wasn't it? On the other hand, the former – her fatigue – was taking over.

With difficulty, Julia finally said, "I'm exhausted, Aaron. I really just need some sleep."

Aaron nodded. "Alright. I – I'll get out of here. I'll check on Kherev, or Thirty-nine, or get some more firewood for tomorrow, or... something."

Julia felt a shudder crawl down her back. She'd be alone again, alone with the dark's invisible eyes crawling over her pitiable state, and her own muddled thoughts poking and prodding her, and the anguish in her chest pulsating with her heartbeat. She'd be alone, the fire ever-threatening to cough out some sparks that would set her clothes alight, and her skin alight, and her wound alight, while she lay immobile, defeated, defenseless... Screaming for help...

"No, please... _Stay_, Aaron, please. _Please_ stay..."

Julia jerked back up to a sitting position – too quickly – and she couldn't restrain her subsequent yell of pain. Aaron rushed to catch her before she collapsed back down, almost slamming the back of her head on a sharp rock. Her lungs heaved, expanding and deflating with a heavy, agonized motion.

Julia sighed, biting her lip on a shriek of exasperation. _Can't I do _anything_ for myself anymore?_

"I'm staying," Aaron assured her. "I promise. I'm staying."

Julia exhaled – inhaled – exhaled. After a moment, she managed, "You do know that you suck at masking your enthusiasm, right?"

Her voice hovered somewhere between ironic humor and dry observation, but she was so close to hysteria by this point that she had to manage something in the realm of laughter.

The jab did its job. Aaron chuckled awkwardly, his words catching in his throat. But his tight jaw and the lump in his throat said that he'd been caught off guard.

"I... I do?" he stuttered.

"Yes," Julia said, matter-of-factly.

"I really suck that badly?"

"Yes. You completely, absolutely suck. You're painfully obvious," Julia went on. "It's sad, really," she added, but she was laughing now. All the tension between them seemed to loosen. Laughter hurt her wound in a strange way, triggering a vibrating sequence of jagged stabs, but she ignored it for the time being.

Aaron laughed along. "You're just easy to talk to," he said, "in my defense."

"Oh, shut up," Julia teased. Her tone became abruptly, comically serious – clearly for effect. "If you touch my hair again, Aaron," she stated, "I'm going to scream bloody murder. Kherev will have to kill you."

"Not without lecturing me on the ways of the Jedi first!" Aaron burst out.

Julia smiled. "True, that."

They laughed together for a moment, a moment that they both wished could last. But then Julia said, "Aaron... I really do need to sleep."

"Oh. Right," he chuckled. "No problem. I'll be quiet now, I promise."

Julia nodded and closed her eyes. "Goodnight," she breathed.

There was a long beat of silence.

"Goodnight, Julia" was the last thing she heard before consciousness slipped away.

**...**

Sleep is a precious commodity in war, and tonight it was nowhere to be found for Aaron Earthshaker. Each time that Julia unconsciously shifted her position, even slightly, his eyes flew open; his heart leapt with violent start, crashing against his ribs – he would turn and see her, and always without fail, she was out cold... perfectly fine.

Then it would take a small, private eternity for Aaron to relax again.

When he did, at long last, slip back into slumber, something else would startle him. The fire would shower a burst of sparks, or there would be an irregular lapse in Julia's breathing, or she would lie totally still and silent for too long – and he would jolt to numb, hazy awareness through the fog of sleep. He would turn and see her... completely, beautifully at peace.

Aaron thought, _I'm getting paranoid._

Eventually, though, the weight of gathering stress became too much, and after a time, he lapsed into a deep sleep. Until, at about midnight – perhaps later, perhaps earlier (he was not entirely sure) – a weight upon his chest sprung him awake.

Aaron expected to see the butt of a blaster rifle, or a grenade, or a thermal detonator, or a lightsaber –

But the last thing he expected was _what he saw_.

Dimly lit by the dying firelight, her lips parted in a gentle cycle of breathing, her golden hair flowing unbound and untamed to her shoulders, her arms wrapped loosely around her shivering body in an attempt to keep warm... Julia Star had shifted her position just enough to move up beside him. Her head rested upon his chest, against his warmth.

For a moment, Aaron hesitated. Were she awake, she would never have pulled so close to him. She would never have been comfortable with this.

But Aaron could not bring himself to push her away.

Cautiously, hesitantly, as if he were expecting spears of lightning to strike them both down at any given moment, he draped one arm over her, holding her safely against him, cocooned between his chest and his hand. His body heat soothed her; her involuntary shaking ceased. She breathed deeply for a moment – she stirred – he feared she would awaken, but instead, she un-wrapped her arms from her body, no longer cold, and settled back into a peaceful sleep.

The steady pattern of Aaron's heartbeat was calming.

Slowly, unconsciously, Julia lifted one hand, reaching up towards his. Her fingers intertwined with his, and she left them there.

Aaron watched her. He waited for the moment when, inevitably, she would move away from him. When she did not, he exhaled, letting all his stress flow out with the release. He closed his eyes and let sleep carry him away.

**...**

** A/N: **I said it before, and I'll say it again. I love you, people!

Freelancer Seal, I can't take complete credit for the rapid updates. I have a lot already written; I'm just typing, expanding, chopping, and editing. Updates will be slow once I hit the bottom of my reserved text.

Master Jessie: I know sometimes it's hard to get your ideas into words, but go for it! I really want to read what you come up with! Let your characters run away from you; they'll really come to life. Don't hesitate – jump in and _write_!

So, another update. More to come!

I really don't understand why only you two have been repeated followers... I finally pursue a larger project, and – as fate would have it – no one finds my story. Hahaha... It's a good thing I have you guys. Your reviews really make my day!

Also, if it's okay with you... If you have a blog or anything like that, maybe post the link to this story there? So more people can find it? You don't have to, but... it would be cool. I won't be a pain; I promise!

Also... this is entirely unrelated, but I got glasses for the first time today to correct my distance vision. I can't believe how stinking CLEAR the world looks. It's unreal. Maybe I'll be a better writer, now that I can better see the typing errors in my work! (Hahahaha...)

May the Force be with you!

P.S. Sorry about the typing errors. I think some of them arrive during the website upload. It messes up my text. But whatever. Things happen lol!


	31. Chapter XXX: Crash and Burn

_**Chapter XXX: Crash and Burn**_

A long, drawn-out exhale. A jagged inhale. A choked exhale.

The pained cadence of Julia's breathing was the first sound that Aaron Earthshaker heard the next morning.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The world was still blurry; his head whirled dizzily, and he blinked once, twice, to clear his vision. His surroundings solidified. Morning sunlight streamed from the mouth of the cave, not quite reaching where he was now; their makeshift campfire had been reduced to a pile of ashes –

_Julia_. Where was Julia?

Aaron ran one hand through his bangs, struggling to wake himself up. His eyes darted about, and finally settled on Julia. She had moved away from him. She was lying on her back a few feet away, gritting her teeth. Her chest rose and fell with an irregular, agonized motion that was more akin to a convulsion than a natural cycle of inhales and exhales.

Adrenaline kicked Aaron into high gear. "Are – are you okay?"

_Okay? Do I _look _okay? _Julia thought, but she didn't have enough air to get the words out. It felt like someone was raking razor blades down her chest. She shouldn't have pulled away from him so quickly – shouldn't have tried to sit up so fast – and maybe then – maybe –

The imaginary razor blades dug deeper. Thinking connectedly would have to wait.

"I'm... bleeding," Julia coughed out.

Aaron's eyes flew to the stream of scarlet that was starting to spurt from her chest, and then flew back to her face, then back to her chest, then to the mouth of the cave, then to her face, then to the blood.

"Get – Kherev," Julia gasped.

Aaron stumbled to his feet, shaking free of the last remnants of sleep. He leaned on the wall for a moment, still in a daze – but then he broke into a sprint. "Kherev – _Kherev_!"

**...**

Kherev Ra'shah rolled over sleepily, sighing. Aaron had worked himself into a panic again. The Togruta wasn't sure it was worth opening his eyes. He wasn't quite ready to wake up yet, and Aaron was probably just having another pointless freak-out moment.

"_KHEREV_!"

The Jedi Knight half-jumped to his feet, his montrals ringing from Aaron's scream. He slowly shook himself to awareness, standing up, leaning against the wall. "What's your problem?" he mumbled.

"Julia's in pain," Aaron stammered as he skidded to a stop. "The healing wore off. You have to do something to stop the bleeding for good – and don't you _dare _hurt her again."

"Alright," Kherev consented. "Hang on."

**...**

This was life for a small eternity – endless days of pain, and stress, and the same unfeeling stone walls that seemed to be closing in around them.

Repeated Force Healing took its toll on Kherev. As Julia began to improve, his condition seemed to worsen with respect to the amount of healing she required. He had difficulty sleeping, often laying wide awake for hours on end – and sometimes thrashing unconsciously about once he nodded off.

He was even more sensitive than usual, searching for insults and arguments where there were none. But the more he tried to slam "the ways of the Jedi" in his allies' faces, the less he seemed to be following his own rules. He didn't want to talk to anyone, but he found it necessary to inject his two cents of superior advice into every conversation. He couldn't stand to be alone, but he avoided any interaction at all with his allies.

On the other hand, Aaron was... unpredictable. When Julia appeared to be healing well, his spirits buoyed; when she was in pain, he was worse than a half-starved acklay.

Thirty-nine was unfortunately caught in the crossfire. He stayed quiet most of the time, but he kept a watchful eye on Aaron. Every now and then, he would speak – he never said much, but when he did, it was always something worth hearing. His experience with war and the wounded was unparalleled.

Then there was Julia.

She didn't even know how many days had passed. She clung to hope, though peace fled from her; and she clung to _him. _As much as it left her vulnerable, as much as she feared losing him, she needed a hand to hold. For now, this was a risk she had to take.

Her real emotions were... complicated.

On one level, she felt guilty. Guilty for disrupting everyone's lives by nearly dying by Darksaber's hand. On another level, she was ashamed that she'd allowed it to happen. It stung to think that all her training had not prepared her for this. And on still another level, she was angry, and afraid. She couldn't bring herself to be angry at the Force, or to blame God, or to blame her allies; so naturally, her anger was transferred to Darksaber – and herself.

At night, in the lonely darkness, she sometimes wondered if she was still going to die. When it became too much, she would shift her position, just enough, ignoring the stabbing pain in her wound, and she would lean her head against Aaron's strong, warm chest, and he would hold her there. Only there, hidden away from everything, did she feel truly safe.

Time crawled on.

Through it all, a simple, straightforward clarity dawned. Jedi Padawans, Knight, and clone, eventually emerged from the dark.

**...**

Things started looking up the day that Julia was finally able to walk. She wouldn't stop thanking Kherev, and Aaron had to resist the urge to slap him.

After that, Julia rapidly improved. She wasn't bleeding anymore, and her pain faded significantly. She stared pushing forward with renewed resolve – and consequently, pushing Aaron away. Except for at night.

Except for when the silence whispered, _now you are alone, _and she so desperately needed to feel his fingers intertwined with her own.

As Julia healed, it became apparent that they were going to need a new plan of action. Kherev couldn't help but feel relieved that his special ability was temporarily unneeded. He needed time away from the Force. He needed to be objective.

The goal: a new shelter from Darksaber.

The Togruta rearranged his emotions into acceptable Jedi behavior. It was about time he returned to the comfortable realm where he was a leader without anger, without doubt, above anyone and anything that could entangle him.

He had his eyes on the prize – respect. The rank of Master, bestowed by the Council. Surely, after all, they weren't the only Jedi that were still alive.

But for now, Kherev needed to be purposeful. He would have to survive this game of hit-and-run.

**...**

"The mountains?" Thirty-nine gasped. "Master Jedi, with all due respect... are you sure?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Kherev snapped.

"I never thought I'd say this," Aaron admitted, "but I – agree with Kherev. That was my plan for our second Republic base. Alk Koth was on board before he was killed in Order sixty-six."

"But what about rations?" the clone pressed.

"That was Rach'ta Zian's concern. But really, there's no reason we can't swoop down from the mountains and take down a clone squad as necessary. Living off of army rations wouldn't be too difficult. And we would have the higher ground. That could save our lives if it comes to another confrontation."

"As I said," Kherev pointed out.

Julia shook her head. "Just because my wounds are healed doesn't mean you can expect me to free-climb a cliff."

"Right," Thirty-nine said. "We need ascension cables. All the clones carry them. I already have one – if we take out three soldiers, we'll have enough for all of us."

Kherev grinned and snatched his saberstaff from his belt. "That's too easy," he laughed. "Clones don't travel in trios. I have no doubt we'll have to handle a whole squad, possibly several." He twirled the hilt of his weapon absently in his hand. "This should be fun."

"We have to take the mountains," Aaron insisted. "They'll be forced to surrender eventually if we pick them off in random attacks and then retreat to the high ground. They can't win. Once their numbers dwindle, they'll have to land more food for the remaining troops, at some point. We can take over a cruiser and get off this rock."

"Then we'll start by getting those ascension cables," Julia said. She retrieved her lightsaber from her belt. (Thirty-nine had grabbed it when they had fled from Darksaber.) "I need to get back in the fight."

Kherev nodded, igniting his blade. "It's about time we showed those dang clones the real power of a Jedi."

**...**

The soldier's eyes bulged as he moaned, unable to push out a scream, and he crumpled as Julia Star drew her blade out of his chest. "_Jump_!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Kherev came tearing over the hill – a streak of light, a blur of sound, as he cut down the nearest clone with a curving slash to his back. Aaron pin-wheeled over him, taking a massive leap powered by the Force. He kicked another clone square in the face, landed solidly, and spun to disarm a third, shearing through his wrists. The clone's hands fell away – his gun hit the dirt – he screamed something incoherent before he collapsed, and was impaled from above.

A blaster shot rocketed at Aaron's back. Julia whirled forward, deflecting it back at the enemy. "I'm here," she laughed, wiping sweat from her forehead.

"More sarcasm?" Aaron teased. "You need to be more original."

Julia snorted. "Don't hold your breath."

She spun abruptly away, moving towards the squad leader. This one had a pair of vibroblades, as opposed to a blaster. He met her charge with a firm X-block, using the force of his body weight to make her step away. Then he took a several steps back, replacing one of his swords in its sheath at his side so that he could use his free hand to take a grenade from beside one of the dead soldiers' supply packs.

The squad leader paused for an instant, weighing the explosive in his hand. Then he leaned back and hurled it as hard as he could. "Time to die, Jedi!"

The frag grenade launched at Julia. She jumped above it, and the grass below her burned to nothing in a split second flare of fire. She landed in a crouch in the scattered shrapnel like a wildcat poised to strike.

The clone commander came on in a flurry of slashes. Julia blocked them all without losing ground, and when the soldier left himself open for a moment too long, she deftly swept his legs out from under him. He slammed his skull against a stone as he fell back. Blue light filled his T-visor, and then the world burned away.

"Breaker!" shouted a clone, gaping at their fallen leader. He glowered at Julia. "Jedi _beast_!" he yelled, and lunged.

Julia didn't even have time to turn and block. The soldier crashed into her like a wild animal. She hit the dirt facedown, trapped by the weight of the clone crouched above her. He frantically fought to pin her limbs to the ground.

Julia gritted her teeth and swung with her lightsaber. The clone leaned aside, catching her wrist in an iron grip as the strike missed. He roared with rage and drove a fist into the Padawan's back. She would have cried out, but suddenly, the clone's hands closed around her neck.

Julia gasped. She tried to scream, and in response, the pressure around her windpipe tightened into a stranglehold. In manic desperation, she tried to maneuver her lightsaber hand towards the clone's neck – in vain. Desperate, she tried to shake herself free, flipping over; but the clone still restrained her with one arm, clutching her neck with his opposite hand.

With a cry, she twisted her wrist around, yanked her arm free, thrust up with her blade. The lightsaber sizzled through armor, muscle, and flesh. The clone screeched in pain, using his last breath to slam his helmeted head into Julia's skull – but then he went limp.

Julia threw the dead body off of her, carefully rising to her feet. She ran one hand through her hair, breathing hard.

A hand gripped her arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm _fine, _Aaron," Julia said, with more malice than she had intended. "Go fight!"

Several yards away, Kherev stabbed a soldier in the gut. "Would you two _cut it out _already?"

Julia bit her lip and leapt towards a cluster of gunmen. "Tell _him, _not _me_!"

"Just try to stay alive, okay?" Aaron shouted as he raised his sword to deflect incoming fire.

Thirty-nine shook his fist in the air. "Dang it... Shut _up_!"

Kherev shook his head condescendingly. He sent a punch of the Force at an approaching grenade, and it exploded in midair. Through the sheet of smoke, the Togruta charged, ending two more lives with a negligent sweep of the golden saberstaff.

It continued on in this fashion for a short time – Aaron tearing limbs from clones, Julia cleanly finishing off the strongest ones that just wouldn't die (while simultaneously guarding Thirty-nine,) Kherev managing to make the whole ugly thing look elegant, and Thirty-nine doing his best to dodge stray blasterfire.

At one point, Aaron even took a blow to the face from the butt of a rifle.

"Karma," Kherev chuckled to himself.

Julia heard the Jedi Knight's laughter, although he tried to conceal it. Despite the fact that profanity was uncharacteristic of her, she mentally swore at Kherev. It was a shame she didn't have the nerve to insult him to his face.

Eventually, the ground was liberally strewn with mangled bodies (and body parts.) In some places, the grass was lightly stained with red; in others, it was incinerated completely, leaving only bare dirt. Arms, and legs, and heads, and limbless torsos, were all scattered about.

**...**

**A/N: **I know; I cut this chapter off at an awkward place. But hey, it's something, right? And I don't have time to type any more right now.

I'm coming to the end of what I've already written. You'll probably get one more chapter out of me, and then I need to write more before I'll be able to publish anything.

I have a shocker coming up – hang in there!

This is... CHAPTER THIRTY? I still can't believe I did this in my free time... It's officially begun to exceed 160 pages (from the download/backup copy pasted into Microsoft Word.) I can't believe I wrote that much. I can't believe it's not over yet.

I can't believe you're still reading this!

Thanks again for the reviews. If there are typing errors here, I apologize. I'll try and fix them when I have the chance. May the Force be with you!


	32. Chapter XXXI: Blindsided

_**Chapter XXXI: Blindsided**_

Deactivating his saberstaff, Kherev scanned the wreckage with something akin to pride. "Pride" was not truly an apt description, however. Pride was a transcendent, glowing emotion. This was a lower, more primitive thing. It was, without a doubt, a sense of satisfaction, but it was tainted by something else – a hint of something between guilt, regret, sorrow, and dry relief.

Yes, the Jedi had been reduced to a level of outright violence. They'd just slaughtered a whole squad of unsuspecting soldiers – but these traitors had driven them to it. The clones had wrought their own destruction, and Kherev was all too happy to be the instrument of their deaths. They would have had to die eventually, anyway; he was merely speeding up the process. When one's life was on the line, it was at least arguably permissible to take advantage of a situation to finish off an enemy before things deteriorated into a more hazardous state of affairs.

But Kherev knew.

He _knew –_

_Jedi don't exact revenge._

Hadn't he criticized Aaron for his rage? Hadn't he mocked every Sith he had ever faced for their fury? That was the bottom line: anger was weakness. Anger was, quite simply, _bad_, and more than that was required of him. He expected more than that from himself.

Anger was something that belonged in the lowlands, taking root in the minds of common men – but Kherev was a Jedi. Surrendered to the will of the Force. Surpassing standard expectations of behavior.

But what else could he call this?

This –

_Revenge..._

And quickly, instinctively, Kherev shifted his mental processes, reclassifying this massacre as self-defense – no, self-preservation – no, that still wasn't right. This was... survival. The clones were in the wrong place at the wrong time, originating from a very wrong bounty hunter, and fighting indisputably on the wrong side.

He didn't have time or energy to waste on running in mental circles. Moral dilemmas; answerless debate; tangled webs of over-complex reasoning: these things belonged with the Senate. He had best leave this sort of thing to cowardly politicians and spineless negotiators.

He was content with recognizing this as survival. Simple as that.

Jedi had an inherent right to kill when necessary, not only for their own defense but for the defense of the galaxy as a whole. And not only a right, but a duty, at times. Words didn't stop invasions. Speeches didn't save innocent worlds. Talk would not win a war – it was merely a system for supporting the _real _battle. The real battle was taking place on the front lines, with real men dying, and real droid armies closing in, and real civilians at risk. War had always been about the gritty truth of combat – not statistics and hypothetical situations and endless, endless, endless talk.

Real warriors knew that a sword was mightier than any pen would ever be, if one knew how to properly wield it.

"Eager for blood, aren't you? What's the smile for?"

Kherev wheeled around when he heard 'Thirty-nine's voice. "Hey, I've been caged for a while, okay?" he retorted. "I needed to get back into the action. Jedi weren't initiated to watch and hide on the sidelines."

Thirty-nine's eyes worked their way over the ground, taking in the remains of his brothers. He swallowed hard. "This is... _fun_ to you?"

"It's survival," Kherev said. "They're out to kill us. They got what was coming to them. And you'll learn awfully fast that you can't be passive in war. Unless you _want _to take a dagger to the back."

Thirty-nine shook his head. Inside his helmet, he was gritting his teeth, although no one could see it. "There has to be another way," he stated. It wasn't a question. It was a declaration. "I – I can't keep doing this!"

Aaron walked up beside Kherev. "I'm sorry, Thirty-nine. I know this is difficult for you, but – there _are _no other options. It's fight or die."

Julia put a hand on Aaron's shoulder, restraining him. She stared into Thirty-nine's eyes. "Of course, we'll understand if you want to stay behind from our next raid. We're lucky to have you at all."

"No, we will _not _understand!" Kherev screeched, seizing Julia's arm. "Are you crazy? We need all the firepower we can get – that clone nearly strangled you, remember? The fewer of us there are, the worse the odds get. And they already aren't in our favor! You could get killed – _Aaron _could get killed next time, if we don't have someone to back up the melee combat – and that's Thirty-nine."

Julia shook her head. "_Kherev _–"

"You have to understand," Thirty-nine blurted out. "I can't take this anymore. I _can't. _You can't expect me to just shoot my own family, like they're wild animals, over and over and over – enough is _enough_! After I saved Julia's life on Naoraan's moon, you would just –"

"This is war, clone," Kherev snapped, his voice dropping an octave. "It's rarely fair. You're a soldier – you'll have to take it. The alternate choice is death for _all of us. _I'll leave it to you to weigh your priorities."

"_Kherev_!" Aaron started.

"Kherev..." Julia tried.

Kherev opened his mouth to cut them both off – when a crash made them all turn to stare.

Thirty-nine tossed his blaster to the dirt. It landed with a sharp clatter. His lungs were crushed together into a knot, but somehow he spoke. "This is war, then," he said, almost to himself, as he stared into space. But then he turned and fixed Kherev with a dragon-like glare and growled, "_This _is war to you, Jedi?" He let out a yell, kicking a severed head, sending a spatter of blood onto the grass.

"This is war," Thirty-nine growled. "Everything left in pieces."

Kherev raised his saberstaff, nervously. "Are you going to betray the Republic like your brothers, clone?"

Thirty-nine closed his eyes.

Order 66, the Jedi, the Sith, the Republic, the Separatists –

The Empire –

His same hollow excuse – _I couldn't have known..._

And then he was shouting.

"The Republic is already _dead_!" Thirty-nine screamed, the force of his yell burning his chest and throat. There. He'd said it – the secret he'd kept this whole time – a lifetime, it felt like. There. The truth was out _there_, out in the open, crashing down on all of them now, breaking loose and crashing into each of them like a fist.

"Your Republic is ruled by a _Sith Lord_!" Thirty-nine went on. It was too late to take back his words now; he might as well let it all out. "Blitz – he told me..."

"What?" Julia cried, her voice a quite whisper; and again, more forcefully: "_What_?"

"I knew all along. I couldn't tell you – I thought you'd – you have to keep fighting, Padawan," the clone spluttered. "You can't give in –"

"A _Sith Lord_?" Aaron shouted. "But how –"

"The Chancellor is the Sith Lord," Thirty-nine said. "We didn't, we _couldn't _know... until Order 66, the Jedi Purge... the Empire..."

"_Empire_?" Kherev screeched.

"The Republic was reformed –"

"When?" Julia yelled.

"– only days after Order sixty-six," Thirty-nine finished.

"But – but –" Aaron ignited his lightsaber, his heart racing. He glared at Thirty-nine, and for the first time since that fateful day beside the ruined ARC-170, the clone looked just like the rest: right down to the way he now stood, one fist raised in the air, the other pressed into his ribs.

Aaron raised his sword to guard his face. "_You – _whose side are you on?"

The clone sighed. How could he answer, in truth? Their side? The Empire's side? "My own," he said, ruefully.

"And what side is that?" Aaron pressed.

The clone reached to retrieve his gun from the dirt. "I don't know."

Aaron white-knuckled the hilt of his blade.

Julia activated her lightsaber, her hands shaking.

Kherev leaned into a ready stance. "Should I kill you now, soldier?"

The blaster trembled in Thirty-nine's grip. He raised it up to shoulder-height.

"Don't try it," Julia stammered. "Please, don't!"

Thirty-nine adjusted his grip on the blaster.

"Don't," Aaron echoed, but his voice sounded far away.

_Enough is enough, _Thirty-nine thought. The world suddenly dissolved into dust around him. Unimportant. Undesirable, even.

Sick of it. He was so _sick of it, _he just wanted to make it _end –_

He blinked. He felt like he was seeing everything for the first time, and the last time, all in the same privileged moment. Then he closed his eyes. He focused on breathing. He listened to the wet, alive, thumping sound of his heart beating, as if he were trying to memorize it.

With one hand, Thirty-nine reached up to remove his helmet and toss it to the ground. With the other, he pressed the barrel of his gun to the side of his head. His fingers on the trigger began to shake.

Kherev tightened his stance, leaning into a crouch. Of all the people he'd known in life, Thirty-nine decided he would miss the Togruta least of all.

"I'll kill you," Kherev snarled.

The clone said, "You won't have to."

Everything suddenly made perfect sense. "_No_, Thirty-nine, _don't_!" Julia shrieked.

The clone pulled the trigger.

**...**

Thirty-nine saw:

_The Kaminoan cloning facility, sterile and cold, black and white, the only sound being the distinct, unified march of row upon row of identical soldiers-in-training..._

_Krayt, characteristically obstinate - wrestling - throwing a wild punch at Crash's head that swings wide, slamming hard into the wall with a crack..._

_Torch's fist, protected by an standard-issue gauntlet, closing around the pole at the head of the training facility as the light blinks green and the alarms blare the victory roar that signifies they have passed the final test..._

Thirty-nine saw:

_The unfinished Republic base on the third moon of Naoraan, hollow but brimming with activity, though the sun sends relentless waves of heat crashing over the clone workers..._

_Blitz, swearing and cursing, railing like a fiend, though Hotshot commands him to be silent..._

_A boy of thirteen years, blond bangs hanging in his sharp, ice-blue eyes, one of his arms twisted unnaturally behind him, his mouth open in a child's scream of pain..._

_Duchess Satine, her lips set in a tight line, her words like embers, though she speaks calmly and directly..._

_A custom repeating blaster in his left fist, jerking about as he awkwardly struggles to adjust the targeting scope with his right hand..._

_Hotshot, hard as durasteel, denial made incarnate..._

_Blitz, muttering profanities under his breath..._

_The void of numb agony – sleep – still fraught with nightmares on these lonely, hopeless nights that always seem to strike at the worst possible time..._

Thirty-nine saw:

_A hologram of Chancellor Palpatine, calmly instructing, "Execute Order Sixty-six..."_

_Master Zenna Merona, Twi'lek Jedi, falling before her own troops' guns, his own brothers' hands raised against her..._

_Blitz's gun raised against him..._

Thirty-nine saw:

_Padawan Julia Star, holding Sparky's lifeless hand – "I killed him..."_

_Blitz, crouched overhead on the catwalk, booming: "Rogue soldier... Stand down..."_

_Fire. Burning. Crashing transparisteel, cracking metal, screeching durasteel, blaring alarms. Smoke and heat and dirt and sweat and blood..._

Thirty-nine saw:

_Dead clones' bodies, fallen before him, lying like heaps of refuse in the grass..._

_The dying soldier's glazed, mindless eyes, pleading the innocence of a helpless pawn..._

_The truth of the Empire, blasting out of him –_

This is what Thirty-nine saw behind his closed eyes. This is what Thirty-nine remembered in the final, white-light, blinding, paralyzing flashes that came charging through the darkness as he tried to remember how to move his fingers. This is what Thirty-nine burned within as he somehow, detachedly, managed to relocate the feeling of the nerves in his arm, his wrist, his hand, his thumb – braced against the switch that he alone decided whether or not to pull.

And he chose. He chose the first thing that he'd ever really chosen for himself. He chose to end it. He chose to make the pain forever go away.

Thirty-nine pulled the trigger.

**...**

The trigger clicked sharply as Thirty-nine's fingers yanked it cleanly back. The blaster twitched, quivering in his white-knuckled grip, and a sizzling in its base sounded against his ear. The sizzling became hissing. The hissing became snarling. The snarling became a deafening, split-second roar of plasma gathering in and coughing out in a tightly packed ball, shrieking down the blackened muzzle of the gun, tearing out of the opening at the end – a bolt of lethal energy.

Even behind his closed eyes, Thirty-nine still saw a flash, like a pillar of flame, in his peripheral vision – a scarlet haze shooting forwards, enveloping the entire left side of his eyesight with a bloody red that whirled in and splashed across the blackness, a misty splatter of crimson.

Thirty-nine braced himself. The world felt suddenly still, and silent, and clear, save for the screech of the blaster that seemed, to him, to be firing in slow motion. His chest felt hollow, and his body felt disconnected from his mind, and it hadn't quite registered yet that it was over, and he'd fired the gun, and it would all end here. The numb emptiness, the distant acceptance, the private peace... was freeing. It would all fade away, now.

But it –

It –

_Didn't_.

The blaster bolt sounded off, and the seared air singed the side of Thirty-nine's face, and the hot, dry smoke curled up his nose and coiled sickeningly down his throat, and the screaming plasma shot bounced off into the atmosphere –

But there was no pain.

There was no loss of awareness. To the contrary, Thirty-nine felt strikingly, horribly aware, aware that something was wrong, and perhaps the bolt wouldn't kill him, and he'd be forced to drown in the wake of his mistakes forever now, wounded from his own blaster, damaged irretrievably by a shot that had been fired by his own hand. His mind destroyed beyond what Kherev could repair.

Numbly, Thirty-nine moved his fingers to pull the trigger again – to end it for real, this time. His hand met empty air. The meaning of this evaded him. Again, he tried to fire a weapon that seemed to have vanished into the atmosphere, but he couldn't do it.

Some creeping doubt crawled up Thirty-nine's spine, a chill spreading like poison through his nerves. He shouldn't have done that – he was created to serve others, to serve the Jedi, even if his existence was nameless, emotionless, and meaningless – he had betrayed his base purpose. He thought, for a moment, that he deserved to live wounded. He deserved to live with this, racked by whatever pain his shot had caused.

Had he destroyed his hearing? Destroyed his nervous system, so that he could not feel the gun that should be in his hand, and the agony that should have exploded in his brain from a near-kill?

His resolve faltered. He didn't care what he deserved. He wanted to die now – simple as that. His life was his to take. Again, he tried to fire his weapon, in vain.

The trigger had disappeared. The gun had disappeared.

Stunned, Thirty-nine opened his empty eyes.

The trigger was not in his hand. The blaster was not in his hand. The blaster was in Julia's hand, snatched from his grasp, stolen by the Force.

The world seemed to have turned to stone: stark, solid, and cold. No one said a word. Kherev stared blindly. Aaron stared wildly. Julia stared agonizingly. Thirty-nine stared back at each of them in turn, dead inside.

Eventually, Aaron said, "Let's get you out of here, Thirty-nine."

The clone abruptly realized that Aaron had walked up beside him. Aaron took hold of his arm, leading him in a slow walk away from everything. Back to the cave, probably. The touch of a human hand brought the soldier back to himself – but awareness made him ache all the more.

What had he done? Why had he done it? How had they reacted, while his eyes were closed? Who would have cared if he'd gone through with it? What would he do now? Would they still trust him? Would they be worried about him? Would they hate him? Would they desert him? Would they kill him, out of fear that he'd snap sometime soon?

_I should be dead_, he decided.

He should die a thousand times over; he'd killed so many people already, and after all, what did he have left? Why stay alive, when all that meant was waiting like a sitting duck for a lucky shot from one of his brothers to put him out of his misery? Why stay alive, if that meant dying a little bit more every day? Why stay alive, if all it meant was killing everyone he cared about – and watching them kill each other?

But somehow, the clone found himself following Aaron as the Padawan led him by the arm, like he was a lost child.

Thirty-nine tried not to look at the scattered bodies of his brothers as he walked away.

**...**

** A/N: **I promised a shocker, didn't I?

I really never planned a suicide attempt, to begin with. But it happened by itself. Once Thirty-nine blurted out the truth, _I _was the one watching, stunned, as he moved the blaster up against his own head. I'm the author, and this caught _me _by surprise!

I hope this is believable. I'm really encouraging constructive criticism in your reviews, this time around. I tried to dramatize Thirty-nine's struggle to the point where we would understand why he did this – but if I made him resort to this too quickly or anything, please tell me (in a nice way; no flames; otherwise, tell me how you feel.) Thanks, and please review!

If his flashbacks confused you, please recognize that he'll explain more about his past later – and then it will make sense. It was meant to be a bit confusing. A lot of it he'll explain himself; the rest is in an unpublished one-shot that I'll probably release to you guys eventually.


	33. Chapter XXXII: Journals of the Nameless

_**Chapter XXXII: Journals of the Nameless**_

__Words were shallow. Words were clumsy, inarticulate things. Like a blaster in the hand of a "shiny," words were useless to Thirty-nine. Emotion was something he had been taught to suppress, or it would have crippled him. Passion was a spontaneous, dangerous development, kept far away from his isolated realm of well-crafted make-believe. Beliefs and opinions were for the privileged.

The clones had something better: duty.

Responsibility.

_Purpose._

Words had a tendency to spawn quarrels, and quarrels spawned consideration, and consideration spawned opinions. Opinions were something that the clones were raised to avoid like the plague.

In short, words were discouraged on Kamino.

A soldier learned to do his talking in more efficient ways.

A salute meant more to one of their brothers than any speech about honor could. A blow to the chest, a jab from the butt of a blaster, a hundred pushups, sit-ups, crunches – this was how the soldiers learned to fall in line. Pats on the shoulder, a teasing elbow to the ribs – these were comfort in a clone's universe. Draconic glares through a T-visor, a chuckle from the side of the hall, a leg extended to trip one up – these were signs of hatred. A medal of honor, a burn-scar on one's body armor, a dent in the side of a helmet – these were marks of experience. A spotless set of gauntlets, a sparkling-new "body bucket" suit of armor – these meant that one was a rookie.

But _words_ –

Words had no place in Thirty-nine's training.

As he sagged against the cave wall, he found that words had deserted him entirely.

His allies spoke not a word. What else could they do, save for waiting? – save for sitting wordlessly in the silence so thick, it was a physical weight? So they did. They passed the time in considerate silence, and they waited for Thirty-nine to say something.

The clone didn't. He couldn't.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to.

Thirty-nine weighed a loose stone in his palm, tossing it absently from hand to hand. He didn't want to meet anyone's eyes. He would find a way to talk willingly, or he wouldn't talk at all. He hoped that he had a good enough head on his shoulders to prevent the Jedi from picking through his thoughts.

And they'd better not try any of that "mind trick" nonsense.

Thirty-nine wiped a stain from the corner of his T-visor. He had replaced his helmet on his head. Visual polarizers cut the glare of their campfire by 78%, but that wasn't the real reason he was wearing it. In truth, it was because his thoughts felt more contained within the helmet – more locked away inside of him – but he wouldn't have admitted such cowardice to anyone.

He didn't like how much this felt like hiding.

Thirty-nine's eyes pored over the stone walls like he'd never seen them before. He still didn't want to look anyone square in the face. It was easier to remove oneself from circumstance inside the surgical privacy of a helmet. The T-visor allowed him to view things from within a private shell, a distant farce, a basic realm.

But in some ways, his armor was more of a prison than anything else.

Sweat and blood and wounds and pain were locked within, somehow fiercer in the confined space. Breathing was louder: amplified. His heartbeat was... distorted. The sound of it was more like a machine than a human.

Living, breathing, thinking beings became allies, or targets – but they were no longer _people_. Approaching danger became computerized warning signals. Emotion became something _in here _– captured and bound within his head, away from the eyes of those who might seek to release it – and the fight became something _out there._

_In here _and _out there _were easier to deal with than _right now._

He'd tried to kill _right now_. Forever. He was starting to wonder if it would be better if he had.

Time ticked by, second by second. Come about 10:00, Kherev exited the cave for guard duty. Thirty-nine had hoped it would loosen his tongue once the Jedi Knight was out of the equation. But it didn't help at all.

Aaron waited. Julia waited.

Thirty-nine cracked his knuckles. He did his best to wipe some stains from his armor. He paced the cave. He wanted to fiddle with some of the personal modifications he'd made to his gun, like he usually did when he was stressed, or confused, or just plain tired of it all – but the Jedi were afraid to let him near a weapon. Whether it was because they feared for his safety or their own, he wasn't sure. He couldn't find the words to ask them.

Fifteen minutes passed in agonizingly slow increments.

10:15.

Aaron waited. Julia waited.

Thirty-nine's helmet scanned them for the _ally _or _threat _labels, and he had to sigh when he found that something had redirected Jedi to _threat _status. Order sixty-six was built into him, it seemed.

10:30.

More waiting.

Thirty-nine tried to fall asleep, but a nightmare rook shape as he started to slip into slumber. A bizarre collage of Blitz and Hotshot, and his squad on Kamino, and droids and Dooku and Darksaber, began to form within Thirty-nine's mind. And they were killing him, slowly, wound after wound after agonizing wound. And the little blond boy on Mandalore was watching... and laughing like a little kid.

At the sound of the child's maniacal, giddy laughter, Thirty-nine jerked back to full awareness. He didn't dare close his eyes again.

10:45.

Still waiting.

Aaron took a seat beside the clone. Julia took a seat beside Aaron.

Thirty-nine got up and took a seat on the floor.

11:00.

Aaron waited. Julia waited.

It became too much, too soon, too long, too immediate. Too... _in here_. Why couldn't problems just stay _out there _where they belonged?

Somehow, Thirty-nine found his voice.

"Are you going to shoot me?" he mumbled.

Aaron half-laughed, but there was no humor in it. "No," he said.

Thirty-nine was unfazed. "Why not?"

"Because you're our friend," Julia said.

"Friend," Thirty-nine echoed, testing out the word like he'd weigh a strange gun in his hand. "I didn't know clones were allowed to have friends. Last time I checked, I was ordered to kill you."

"You didn't," Aaron reminded him.

"Right," Thirty-nine said. "I should have. That's why they grew us, you know. To follow orders." He stared at the ground. "You should have _stabbed me_."

"Because you tried to commit suicide?" Julia shrieked, louder than she'd meant to. "Because you were so shattered, you tried to –"

"_No_!" Thirty-nine growled. "The minute I came down that cliff on Naoraan's moon to save you – you should have impaled me right then and there."

"Then who would have hotwired the ARC-170?" Julia said, coolly. Logically.

Thirty-nine sighed. "That's... _irrelevant._ Let's be honest. You would have found a way."

"And who would have warned me when Kherev showed up?" Julia pressed. "If not for you, Aaron would be dead. I would likely have followed."

"We need you," Aaron added, "just like Kherev said today. Although _I_ would have put it differently." He growled under his breath. "Thirty-nine, as far as I'm concerned, you're our friend. You saved Julia's life, more than once. You've been with us through everything."

Thirty-nine shook his head. "I'm one of _them_."

"No, you're not," Julia said. "You're _you_."

"I'm a _number _is what I am. Another Jango Fett. Another clone manufactured to _murder you_." Thirty-nine spat on the ground. "You should run me through right here. It would make your lives better, not having to worry about what I might do next. I don't need you concerned that I might try another stunt like _that _again."

There was a lengthy silence.

Julia said, "Did you really mean it?"

"Mean what?" the soldier snapped.

"Did you really..." Julia had to look away from him. "...want to die?"

Thirty-nine nodded.

More silence.

"Just... _why_?" Aaron asked.

Thirty-nine stared into space. He swallowed hard.

His chest felt tight and knotted.

"I'm tired... of being a pawn," he managed. "Tired of being a piece of a game I never started. Tired of _killing _people with _lives_. Tired of accepting whatever propaganda they pump into our heads!" A sudden ferocity filled Thirty-nine's voice. "I didn't _ask _to fight a war," he said. "I was _born _to fight a war. And I don't even know which side I should be on."

The silence persisted. Quiet was winning out. Words must be failing the Jedi, too. Words were just plain useless tonight.

Eventually, Julia said, "Tell me about the war, Thirty-nine."

The clone couldn't help but laugh, just a little bit. "You're _fighting in it_, aren't you?"

"Tell us about the war for _you_," Aaron clarified. "About Kamino. About the front lines. About what it _felt like_, on the inside."

Thirty-nine leaned back against the wall. He crossed his arms. He inhaled slowly, trying to organize his thoughts into a semi-coherent whole.

"I was born... grown... created... whatever you call it, on Kamino," he stammered. "Like the others. I was trained. I was sent into the field –"

"Who was in your squad?" Julia interrupted. "Originally?"

Thirty-nine rattled off the names like he'd rattled off his recitation of Order 66. "Me. Walker. Skidds. Torch. And Rush."

"What were they like?" Aaron asked.

That was more specific. The indifferent approach was falling quickly to pieces. Thirty-nine closed his eyes, trying to focus on memories he'd been beating back for a very long time.

He took another deep breath. Pain rolled over him as he picked through his mental catalogue of tragedies and deaths and uncertainties – but when he found Kamino in the madness, he suddenly felt... something. Comfort? Security? All he knew was that he felt... like he was _home_.

The words tumbled out effortlessly, now.

"Walker was the strong, silent type," Thirty-nine said. "Skidds and Rush were at odds constantly – two fiery personalities. Walker was almost always the one to break it up. But Torch had... _dash_. He was witty, and determined, and competitive – but very likable. He planned the most elaborate, ridiculous strategies, and they always completelybackfired." Thirty-nine allowed himself a small smile. "The clankers would have made quick work of him if not for us."

Julia laughed. "I've known plenty of people like that," she said, and elbowed Aaron in the ribs.

Aaron sighed. "Go on," he prompted, simultaneously trying to jab Julia's side with his arm. She leaned out of his reach, rolling her eyes. "Thirty-nine, you can take that helmet off, you know," Aaron added.

Thirty-nine sighed. "Alright." He slipped his helmet off, placing it on the floor.

There was a beat of silence.

"What was training like?" Julia asked.

"Well... it was hard," Thirty-nine said. "It was a challenge. But we took it like men, and we learned. Like the others. We learned how to march, how to dodge, how to strategize... How to _fight_."

"Did you... _like _Kamino?" Aaron asked.

"More than I'll ever like any other planet," Thirty-nine said. The abrupt conviction in his voice startled even himself. "Kamino was... easier, I guess you could say. Everything was strictly routine. The world is black and white, right and wrong, yes and no. If you did as you were told, everything ran smoothly."

"You never worried?" Julia asked.

Thirty-nine raised his eyebrows. "About what?"

"About failing the tests. About heading off to war."

"Sometimes." Thirty-nine's eyes seemed to glaze over. "It was the worst when I was alone, and all I could do was... think. Or sleep. Or, when sleep was impossible, I tinkered with my blaster." He chuckled. "That became a habit."

"That's how you coped," Aaron observed. "Messing with technology?"

"When I needed to cope," the clone said. "Kamino was so much – _simpler_. It's hard to explain. It's like – you live inside this safe, comfortable facility with a safe schedule and a family of brothers that always holds fast, and the war – the war is _out there_. You don't really have to think about it yet. It's mechanical, the training. It doesn't hit you how _real _and _in here _it is until..."

Thirty-nine's voice trailed off.

"It's the difference between knowing that the world is burning," he said, "and feeling the weight of the ashes raining down around you. The difference between seeing a flame consuming the galaxy, and setting the fire yourself. It's hard to explain to someone who hasn't _been there. _Sometimes, I'm not totally sure I get it myself."

Aaron's expression darkened. "What was it like?" he asked, leaning slightly forwards, his eyes suddenly wide and eager. "When you left Kamino?"

"It was like..." Thirty-nine struggled for words, again. "Like everything changed. And not the way I wanted it to."

The silence began to set back in.

Julia was listening intently now. "When did things change?"

"I don't know," Thirty-nine spat. "It happened... slowly. It leaked into my life like poison, and suddenly – it felt like everything was giving way at once."

"But... when did you _realize_ it?" Aaron pressed.

Thirty-nine looked away. "That I remember."

Silence.

Julia said, "You don't have to tell us anything you don't want to."

"Dang right I don't," Thirty-nine scoffed.

Aaron looked the clone straight in the eyes. "Thirty-nine, listen to me. We don't know. We're just trying to understand, because we've never had the chance to see things like you. From the inside."

The Padawan's eyes narrowed; his voice became low and intense. He leaned further forward, his hands in fists that rested on his knees.

"Please," he said, "just tell us everything you can."

Thirty-nine swallowed, blinking repeatedly, as if the whole awful thing were a dream that he could shake off. "It started on Mandalore," he said.

"My home planet," Julia gasped. "Did it have something to do with... _me_?"

"What could his war stories possibly have to do with you?" Aaron laughed.

Julia bit her lip. "I... I really don't want to talk about this, okay?" she stuttered, her voice shaking.

Aaron opened his mouth, a thousand more questions on his tongue –

But Julia turned quickly to Thirty-nine. "It wasn't about me, was it?"

"No. It wasn't." Thirty-nine took a deep breath. "You're going to force the story out of me, aren't you, Earthshaker?"

Aaron abruptly realized how ridiculously fascinated he must look. "Uh... one way or another," he admitted. He leaned back against the wall, trying to look indifferent and failing miserably.

"Alright," Thirty-nine consented. "It started on Mandalore. We had been doing construction on that base on Naoraan's third moon, but progress was slow, and we were often called off to side missions like this one."

"Why Mandalore?" Julia asked.

"We'd heard news of a wildly active gang of... _something_... that had been robbing homes and stores, and damaging property. We expected Sepis – Separatists, you know – but Duchess Satine feared a revival of Death Watch was the logical explanation, so she called in our squad as a precaution. She'd already sent a spy to investigate... and they found him dead. Stabbed through the chest and riddled with blasterfire."

Thirty-nine paused to take a breath.

Aaron blurted out, "So? Was it Death Watch?"

Thirty-nine shook his head. "No." He swallowed. "It was a gang of teens. With a twelve-year-old mixed up in it all. All were armed – and angry with life."

"But you had a whole squad," Julia interjected. "Wouldn't a couple of teens... I mean, you took them down, right?"

"We treated them like we always treat criminals." Thirty-nine looked away. "We opened fire."

"You _killed them_?" Aaron gasped.

"No. The Duchess requested that whoever was causing the trouble be taken alive, so they could be interrogated. She still suspected Death Watch, and she wanted to question whatever underlings were causing this nonsense."

Julia looked confused. "But then... what _happened_?"

Thirty-nine stared at the ground. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. Somehow, he managed to blurt out, "I took down the twelve-year-old."

And then he couldn't stop talking.

"The kid had a thermal detonator – who knows where he got the thing – and he was threatening to use it. Kill us all. Friends or enemies, altogether. So I did the reckless thing, and I lunged.

"The kid hit the asphalt so hard, he didn't even yell. I had both his arms pinned at the wrists, and he dropped the explosive. It went flying. Skidds and Rush took off running to catch it, but they tripped over each other. Walker climbed _over them, _and then he was in the air, and he caught it.

"The other gang members grabbed their weapons and went for the kill. Blasterfire was ricocheting everywhere, and I had to duck under someone's vibroblade, and the kid I was holding managed to kick me in the chest. He crawled on top of me, trying to punch me in the face, but I got him in the side of the head with the butt of my gun. He collapsed. That gave me time to pin his arms down again. He fought me like an animal, screaming and cursing with words no twelve-year-old should have known, and I was thinking how pathetic it was that I couldn't control him, and how I needed to stop this, and how maybe I should just shoot him dead, and then –"

Thirty-nine swallowed.

"I twisted his arm back behind him. I was so _angry_… And I heard it just... _snap_. This ear-piercing _crack_. And the kid howled like I'd never heard anyone howl."

Thirty-nine stared into space, and it was impossible to deny how haunted he looked.

Julia said, "That's awful."

Thirty-nine nodded. "I didn't have to do that. I shouldn't have. And I felt so awful, I let the kid go. He was just lying there, clutching his broken arm, and screaming. When the screaming fit subsided, he finally looked me in the eyes.

"'Death Watch shot Dad,' he said. 'I have to eat.'

"I'll never forget the way he looked right then. Just a kid. Only twelve. Should have been at home, playing video games, doing his homework – not _this_. And for a second, he was just a boy."

Thirty-nine's voice trailed off.

"You start to realize how wrong it all is when you're staring into the eyes of everything you've been taught to hate... and all you see is yourself. You're standing in the wake of a thousand questions swimming in this kid's empty, ice-blue eyes, and you can't look away. At some level, you just... _get_ him. I don't know how to explain it. It doesn't really make any sense. But all I though in that moment was, _everything is wrong_."

Aaron swallowed. "I... know what you mean."

"I'll spare you the rest," Thirty-nine said. "All you need to know is that eventually, I found out that the kid had been executed. At twelve."

Thirty-nine took a deep breath, then lowered his head and sighed.

Julia opened her mouth to say something, but she couldn't find the right words.

"The kid," Aaron managed. "What was his name?"

Thirty-nine said, "I never knew." He looked away. "I think that's part of why I... cared about him. No one deserves a life like that. And the army expected me to believe that the Republic was _peace_, and _justice, _and _security_... while they killed _twelve-year-olds_ who watched Death Watch _murder_ their _fathers_!"

Aaron's voice dropped an octave. "You sound like a Separatist."

"It's not like that!" Thirty-nine shouted, suddenly rocketing to his feet. "It's like – like – like no matter which way you move, you're betraying someone. Everything is wrong, and you know that something has to be right, but you're banging your head against the same wall over and over – and you can't find it. You're afraid to jump, but you have to. You're falling inside a hurricane. And you don't know if you're falling up or down."

There was a lengthy silence.

Julia nodded. "I understand," she said. "I really do. The Jedi – we're not the selfless, perfect saviors we're painted as. We're flawed. The Republic is flawed. Sometimes you just... don't know."

Aaron turned suddenly grave. "There's darkness everywhere," he said. "Sometimes, in truth, you just feel... lost."

"Lost? _Lost_!" Thirty-nine burst out, waving one fist in the air. "That's just it. I knew everything a soldier could possibly need to know, and I didn't know anything that mattered. I knew a thousand ways to kill someone, but I didn't know why I was killing in the first place. And no one else seemed to care why."

Thirty-nine collapsed back into a sitting position on a rock.

"I needed reasons," he whispered, in a low growl. "I needed explanations." He swallowed. "All I ever got was orders."

It was quiet again. Aaron and Julia couldn't seem to look at Thirty-nine, or even each other.

Eventually, Thirty-nine said, "If I asked you to kill me, would you?"

"No," Aaron answered, with finality.

"Never," Julia echoed.

Thirty-nine was unwavering. "Why not?" he snarled.

"Because we care about you," Julia insisted. "There are things left to live for, if you just hold fast. I won't let you throw your life away."

"You're our friend, regardless of what that means to you," Aaron stammered. "There's something... _different _about you. I trust you, more than I've ever trusted any soldier. I know you might think we can't possibly understand, and maybe I don't, but _listen to me_."

Thirty-nine swallowed.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't take a gun to my head. One. _Real_. Reason. No more of this friendship nonsense and idealism and Jedi babble. Give me _one reason_."

"Because I've been you," Julia choked out. "I've felt hopeless. I've wondered if it's worth fighting a war against something inside every one of us," she stammered, and she found herself gasping as tears began to squeeze their way out of her eyes.

"I know you feel lost," she cried. "I know you feel alone. But you're not. Even if you are, it won't stay that way. When the clouds clear, you'll always find that the stars are still there. And for one privileged moment, everything will make sense."

Julia wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.

"I know it doesn't right now," she confessed. "I know how easy it would be to pull that trigger, to let it all end. But you are a _person_ with a _life_, and possibilities, and hopes, and _dreams_… and don't you _ever _let anyone tell you otherwise."

Thirty-nine looked as dead as the stone he was sitting on.

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" Aaron stammered.

The silence was deafening.

Then Thirty-nine nodded. "For now." With a groan, he rose to his feet. "I'm going to the back of the cave. I need some sleep."

Aaron nodded. "Okay."

Thirty-nine turned and began to walk away.

"Goodnight, Hero," Julia called from behind him.

The clone froze where he stood. His heart leapt up and bounced against his ribs, an audible, erratic thumping. "_What_… did you just call me?"

"Hero," Julia said.

"I'm not a hero," the clone laughed. "I'm a soldier. I'm just doing my job – and I'm still considering ending things permanently."

"I didn't say you were a hero," Julia corrected him. "I said you were _Hero._"

Aaron grinned. "Thirty-nine, I think she just gave you a name."

"_What_?" Thirty-nine burst out. He was almost laughing. This was ridiculous. This was impossible. "I – I'm not – you've got to be kidding me, Julia."

A name.

How many years had he waited to be someone?

How many of his brothers had he practically begged to see him as somebody?

How long had he wanted a name?

Any name?

But –

_Hero_?

"Don't argue," Julia said. "You can hide inside that helmet all you want. You can have the same DNA as the others and still be your own person. Just like Skidds and Rush were the crazy ones. Just like how everyone has always disliked Commander Krayt. Just like Droid-bait had no brain. You're _Hero_. Simple as that."

Aaron chuckled. "Hero," he breathed. "I like it. It fits you. You've done more than enough to deserve that name."

Thirty-nine shook his head. "I'm Thirty-nine. Always have been."

"Order sixty-six changed us all," Julia replied. "Some of us have fallen. Some of us have risen. Some of us don't quite know where we stand. But you," she said, "are a hero. You are _Hero_."

Thirty-nine laughed. "Whatever you say," he muttered, beginning to walk away.

"Goodnight, Hero," was the last thing he heard that night before he fell asleep.

**A/N: **A pivotal scene, encompassing some of the back-story I've been desperate to tell you all. Credit for the names "Skidds," "Walker," and "Rush" go to my amazing younger sister – a wonderful source of inspiration. I love you, sis!


	34. Chapter XXXIII: The Mountains Rise

_ **Chapter XXXIII: The Mountains Rise**_

No respite is guaranteed to last, and the Jedi were not ignorant of the fragility of their survival. They rose early the next morning, catapulting directly into preparations for scaling the cliffs.

Kherev was the first one awake, probably from another nightmare. The light was gone from his eyes, and he almost tripped over a sleeping Aaron in his haste to get some fresh air, so it was safe to assume that the Togruta hadn't gotten much sleep – and that his fleeting, fitful rest had been fraught with horrors that he would prefer not to explain. Thankfully, his panic _did _spring his allies awake, and they quickly launched into action.

Aaron divided up the rations they'd obtained from their last raid. They wouldn't be able to carry any of it up to the mountains, so they'd best eat what they wanted now. The rest they would be forced leave behind.

Kherev, Julia, and Aaron were all grateful for the chance to have a decent-sized meal after so many days of nervously preserving as much food as possible. But Thirty-nine, on the other hand, refused to eat a thing.

"You're really not hungry?" Kherev challenged.

The soldier shrugged. "I don't want to eat one thing we got from that last raid," he said. "I shouldn't have been part of it, and I don't want whatever you managed to salvage from it."

"Hero –" Julia started.

"I _told _you!" the clone fumed. "Stop calling methat!"

Kherev chuckled. "When did _this _start?" he teased, simultaneously fumbling with another pack of meager rations.

"Yesterday," Julia said. "I decided it was about time we named him."

Kherev's chuckling ascended into all-out laughter. "_Hero_?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me."

Aaron's answering glare was like another slap in the face.

Kherev swallowed, composing himself. His laughter died away. He took another bite of food, mumbling, "Why _Hero_?"

"Because that's what he is," Aaron retorted. "A hero." He said it like he might have said that the grass was green and the sky was blue. "He's half the reason we're all still alive. He's earned a name, at least."

Thirty-nine shook his head. "No, no, _no_!" he stammered, and snapped up to his feet. "I swear, if you don't stop calling me that, I am taking that gun to my head – and you are _not _going to stop me again."

Aaron opened his mouth as if to speak, but he only groaned in frustration.

Kherev gritted his teeth.

"We both know you don't want to do that," Julia said.

Thirty-nine sighed. He clenched one hand into a fist, and he felt his stomach turn violently inside of his chest, and he wanted to rage and to protest and to make it all stop, but he knew the truth alright.

He wasn't going to try another stunt just yet. He had too much yet to accomplish. People to protect, a war to win, a hope to find. All these years spent searching... He couldn't just throw it away. Not now. Not when the walls he'd been banging his head on just might be ready to finally break.

"Just – cut it out, alright?" he managed. "I'll... go prep the ascension cables," he muttered, and then he was turning away.

"Hero –" Julia tried again.

"I'm _not _a _hero_!" the clone yelled back, still walking away. "I'm a number. I don't even know what I'm fighting for or why I'm fighting!"

"You're fighting for freedom," Aaron said. "You're fighting for the Jedi Order. For the Force."

Thirty-nine wheeled around, suddenly livid. "I was grown to fight for the Republic," he shouted. "And now I'm the one tearing it down!"

He raised a fist as if to punch something, only to realize that there was nothing to hit. At that, he felt something break. Nothing and everything fell apart, inside and outside, within and without. He lowered his head, and all the fight seemed to go out of him. His throat felt dry; his head hurt, spinning numbly in dizzy circles. He felt his fist unclench by itself, and he felt his arm drop back to his side, and his heart was pounding out a broken rhythm.

"I just don't know, alright?" he sighed. "I may have decided to live, but I am fighting an uphill fight, every single minute. I've been scaling mountains much taller than the ones on this planet for much longer than any of you, and I don't even know if I'll reach the top."

There was a beat of silence.

Kherev took a deep breath. "You know I hate to get involved in this," he said, "but if you fall... you'll fall a long way. And you may take us down with you. If you hold on, you have nothing to lose. You need to keep climbing."

"Climbing a wall that doesn't end," Thirty-nine muttered. He looked away and spat, "Ascension cables. _Now_. So leave me alone." He turned to walk towards the back of the cave, and in a minute he was gone.

Aaron shook his head as if this were all a nightmare they were going to wake up from.

Julia bit her lip. "I worry about him."

Kherev waved a hand dismissively, tearing into another dead clone's breakfast with his fangs. "Let him be. I don't need him pulling another psychotic stunt. Let him cool off, and leave him alone. As far as all this 'Hero' nonsense goes... forget it. He doesn't need a name. He was born to preserve the peace, and he's doing that just fine without you labeling him a hero. It's his duty. So let him carry it out."

Julia glared at Kherev as if her eyes could burn holes in his back. It didn't work. He pretended not to notice, and after a moment, Julia sighed and looked away.

"Watch your mouth, Kherev," Aaron warned.

Kherev swallowed. "I'm just trying to –"

"Trying to help," Julia interrupted. "We know."

"Just watch your mouth," Aaron added. "We don't need any more tension than we already have."

Kherev groaned, but he nodded resentfully. "Fine." He swallowed. "I... apologize. I'm a Jedi. I am capable of more."

"I certainly hope so," Julia said, rising to her feet. "Well, Hero – Thirty-nine – has a point. We should get ready to move."

**...**

It was terribly cold this early in the morning on Ryisyyyk, especially at the foot of the mountains. Long shadows stretched out across the grass like fingers of darkness, reaching to drag the Jedi into the cracks of the cliff face. The cool breeze and the approaching storm clouds, coupled with the lack of sun in the shadows, made Julia shiver.

Aaron looked concerned. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Kherev added, "The last thing we need is you getting sick."

It wasn't like they could blame Julia. She'd managed to wash the blood out of her robe in the river, but it was still torn where Darksaber's blade had sliced her chest open – leaving her lower stomach exposed to the chill. It was beginning to drive her insane.

But Julia shook her head, doing her best to shrug it off. "I'm fine," she assured them. "Just cold."

Aaron nodded, and it was quiet for a moment – until he blurted out, "I have an idea."

Julia raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Aaron slipped his arms out of the sleeves of his Jedi garb's outermost layer. He proceeded to pull his shirt over his head before sliding back into the outer robe. "Here," he said, and tossed the shirt to Julia. "Wear this under your robe. It'll keep you warm."

Julia had caught the shirt, but she shook her head. She stared at it like it was contraband. "Please tell me you're not serious, Aaron."

"I'm dead serious. Come on. It's gender neutral – it's just a black T-shirt, for crying out loud."

Julia sighed. "You'll freeze without it."

"No, I won't," Aaron insisted, but he was clutching his robe tightly around his bare chest, braced against the wind. "I'll be perfectly fine. _You_, on the other hand, just finished recovering from a near-lethal lightsaber wound and mutant Sith lightning." Aaron chuckled. "You've earned the stinking shirt, Julia."

Julia groaned. "Whatever," she mumbled. "I'm going to kill you for this."

"Sure, sure," Aaron teased. "Go get changed in the cave. We won't start climbing without you."

Julia nodded. She was gone in a moment, shirt in hand.

Behind Aaron, Kherev was laughing.

"What?" Aaron spat.

"Nothing." The Togruta chuckled. "You're just painfully obvious. Being a Padawan, I would expect you to be more... subtle."

Aaron sighed. "I've heard that before."

**...**

Julia returned in only a couple of minutes, wearing the T-shirt beneath her Jedi robe. She politely informed Aaron that yes, it was comfortable; yes, she would be fine now – and yes, he ought to leave her alone, already.

He agreed that he would, and he did.

But Julia found herself watching him.

Was it the orange glare of the sun in his cinnamon eyes that made them seem so fiery and alive? Was it the way he stood, firm and erect, that made him look so... strong? So firm, and brave, and ready? Was it the way the shadows fell across his face that made him look so much... _older_?

What was it that held her gaze?

Julia was unwilling to admit to herself that it might be his six-pack. Aaron's chest – now bare and exposed to the wind and the elements – was lean and well-muscled. More so than she had expected.

_For crying out loud, _she thought, _I'm a Jedi. I'm sixteen. I need to grow up. _

Was she really going to pull this childish nonsense here, now? They were being hunted like animals, and she was going to get distracted by a teenage boy? Shouldn't she have outgrown this pettiness by now?

But it didn't feel petty.

It felt so raw, and real, and she felt her heart start skipping beats while she watched him. Her throat felt tight, and words seemed... weak. Inadequate. She wanted to tear her eyes away, but they kept circling back to him. Heat flushed her cheeks, and something felt tight in her stomach, but her breathing was loose and erratic. She was shivering again, and not from the cold.

_Why can't I think straight? _She mentally screamed at herself. _Come on, Julia. Get a grip._

She was healed now. She didn't need him. She couldn't trust him – it was immature. Unwise. Childish.

Men were liars. Men were easily pleased, easily excited by a pretty face. And she was not an object. She would not play so easily into his hands. She was a Jedi, and she was entirely capable of defending herself, and she most certainly did not need him, did not want him, did not, could not, and would not love him.

But she couldn't stop watching him.

"Okay," Aaron said. "Hero – how are the ascension cables?"

The clone didn't even meet his eyes. "Who's Hero?"

Aaron groaned. "_Thirty-nine_... How are ascension cables?"

"Good." The soldier wiped sweat from his forehead. "I tested them out. They should work fine."

Aaron nodded as if to say, _we're good to go. _He turned to look at Julia, and her gaze quickly flitted away – but he'd seen her watching him. She felt like she might throw up.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! _She gritted her teeth. Was she _trying _to lead him on? And she'd thought that _he _was the painfully obvious one.

Aaron smiled innocently. "Something wrong?"

"_No_," Julia snapped. But her vehemence gave her away. She swallowed, but her heart wouldn't quit bouncing against her ribs. "Let's get moving, okay?" she managed.

Aaron nodded. "No problem," he said. He turned away from her, moving his intense, searching stare away, and she was grateful – but he was chuckling under his breath.

He was on to her.

Forgetting about him... she'd thought it would be easy. She'd thought he could put her back together, and she would stand up on her own two feet and be her own person again. But something _held her here_. Fascination? Confusion? Fear? Desperation?

Not love. That she knew.

It was not love.

She didn't trust anyone that much. She could not afford to fall in love, and she'd arranged her facade in such a way that she wouldn't have to.

But she'd lain broken and bleeding on that icy stone floor, barely breathing, heart angrily pumping... and her lungs were burning, her bones stinging. She'd been dying there, clutching his hand with all the strength she had...

Did she really believe, in her delusional fantasy, in her heart of hearts, that things could change, after that? That she could let him heal her shattered soul, and then walk away? Like she'd never cared about him? Like she'd never felt anything between them? Like it hadn't felt warm and comforting, and natural, to fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat, her fingers intertwined with his?

Like she hadn't cherished every second of that kiss, so sweet, so true, so beyond a shadow of a doubt _real_...

Did she love him?

Could she love him?

Should she love him?

If she did, what would that _mean_?

Julia closed her eyes and willed the questions to dissolve into the safe, blank silence again, but they didn't. She opened her eyes. She breathed hard, trying to maintain her hold on reality.

Kherev and Hero were waiting for her. Aaron was motioning for her to take one of the ascension cables.

"I told you we'd wait," he laughed, "but I never said we'd wait all day. Come on!"

Julia somehow smiled, at that. That smile vanished quickly, like someone had wiped it off. Her heart hammered violently, and she started to get that nauseous feeling in the back of her mind and bottom of her chest all over again.

Aaron Earthshaker.

Stupid, stupid Aaron Earthshaker.

_Ignoring him, _Julia thought, _might be harder than I thought._

**...**

**A/N: **I had another freak-out moment yesterday. I looked up the lyrics on You Tube to Thousand Foot Krutch's "Broken Wing." The song was really awesome, and I started thinking, _This would be another great theme for Julia and Aaron's love story. _As the chorus went on, it suddenly said –

"It'll be okay

You can walk away

SWEET JULIA"

And I just about hit the ceiling.

How common is it for the name "Julia" to appear in a song, let alone a song by a band I'm in love with? It was amazing. It was... like a sign.

Okay, it was mostly weird. But "Broken Wing" is officially an additional theme for the love story (hahahahaha!)

I have more action coming; I'm building up to it. I'm using this lull for intensity that is more emotional than physical. I'm establishing character relationships, dynamics, and back story. Have no fear – I'll lapse back into ignition-mode soon.

Please give me advice on how to keep this interesting. If it's dragging, please tell me. Thanks again!


	35. Chapter XXXIV: Descent and Ascent

_**Chapter XXXIV: Descent and Ascent**_

They arrived promptly, as the Emperor had promised – six fresh, professional clone squadrons to replace the original recruits from Ryisyyyk and Naoraan's third moon. They landed on the system's surface in another Republic cruiser, but the design of it was altered enough from the standard for it to be rightly called an Imperial cruiser. The insignia of the Empire was emblazoned in several locations across the craft, both within and without.

Clearly, Darth Sidious had wasted no time in equipping his Empire for its final test. The Jedi must be crushed. Rebellion must be killed off, even as it reared its ugly head. And the Emperor wanted to do it in proper fashion, with properly designed Imperial war machines.

Six squads of soldiers meant six commanders, and not one of them could claim that he wasn't nervous. None of them had been informed of the details of the prior events that transpired on Ryisyyyk, but each had deduced for himself that Hotshot, Blitz, Krayt, and all the rest met an untimely end. That stung in a way that the war rarely had.

There are very few ways to stab the heart of a clone. He lives and dies with the same blind determination. He rises and falls with the same driving goal. Every day, every waking hour, he lives and breathes war. He wears virtually impenetrable battle armor; he is armed, and fast, and resourceful; he has nothing of his own – nothing to gain, and nothing to lose.

Except his brothers.

Even the death of Commander Krayt, head soldier on Ryisyyyk, (who was generally dismissed as an arrogant and abhorrent result of a poor attempt to stretch the limited Jango Fett DNA samples,) was like a blow to the descending troops. Their brothers were all they had.

But they were soldiers, and like soldiers, they wiped the sweat from their eyes, replaced their helmets, swallowed hard, and squared their shoulders. If they died here, then they died.

There were Jedi to kill.

The troops marched out in solid, unified formation, the six commanders leading the way. Two were from Christophsis, their armor decorated with stripes of deep blue; two were from Kashyyyk, and possessed unique uniforms and weapons designed for operation on jungle worlds; the final two were from Teth, their color designation being a rusty orange. Diverse though they might be, in names and in functions, they were all one man, and they marched out of the Imperial cruiser as one, blasters on their shoulders, eyes staring straight ahead.

They had been salvaged from all corners of the galaxy; gathered in for one, single purpose and one purpose only: put an end to the resistance on Ryisyyyk.

Their names, respectively, were Fallout, Raze, Thresh, Stride, Gears, and Chase.

The squadrons they commanded were, respectively, _Bravo Squad_, _Wolf Squad_, _Camo [flague] Squad_, _Amazon Squad_, _Storm Squad_, and _Iron Squad_.

The commanders fell into line horizontally. Their squads formed vertical columns behind them. No one moved. No one spoke. No one so much as breathed as the Dark Lord they had heard so much about slowly moved up to meet them.

Darksaber sauntered matter-of-factly up the line, turned briskly, sauntered back up – and back and forth, back and forth. _Thud, thud, thud _went his metal boots as he paced the soft, grassy earth.

He treaded slowly, contentedly; his control was hideously quiet, but that made it even stronger. Every one of the soldiers could sense the evil destruction of this black hole of the Force... this cloaked enigma, this ancient power, this heartless immortal, this living death. This dead star, his soul a blazing stone, his fist clenched casually around all the vastness of the Dark Side.

But he was so _relaxed_. It was terrifying.

This overshadowing, fervid passion within him... surely, at any moment it would come crashing forth, reducing the army – the whole system, even – to ashes and dust.

Darksaber spoke with a certainty that belied centuries of agonizing desperation.

"**Fallout. Raze."** He stopped briefly in front of them, just long enough to stare them down before resuming his pacing up and down, back and forth.

"**Shake the dust of Christophsis from your boots," **he commanded.** "It has no place on this ground. This is not an urban cityscape. This is not a mission for a police agency or secret forces division. We are not hunting the scum and lowlifes that cower in the dirt and grime of your station."**

He paused briefly, a sudden power in his tone threatening to overwhelm him.

"**This is my **_**home**_**," **he said.** "It defies anything you have and will ever see. And our targets are the scourge of the galaxy – yea, the universe – even beyond the limited contours of space and time that you are so bound to. Should you possess any presuppositions, reservations, doubts... you will leave them where you stand. You will follow the path which I lay out before you, and you will strike down the Jedi fools, according to the measure they have used on your brothers."**

Darksaber paused before the Christophsis pair.** "Are we clear?"**

Fallout nodded solemnly. He clenched his fists, ravenous for a fight. Then Raze nodded in turn, with a ghost of a smile.

Darksaber sauntered sharply towards the next pair of Commanders.

"**Thresh. Stride."** He crossed his arms, his gloved hands balled into loose fists. He stared them down, and then he resumed his march – back and forth, back and forth. Sharp and certain.

"**You may think that Kashyyyk has taught you something of the jungle," **Darksaber pressed.** "Should you be entertaining any such thoughts, I will make myself clear – I will not tolerate any such folly. This ground where you stand is consecrated with the blood of countless warriors, poured out at the hands of the accursed. This is not a cursed Wookiee settlement."**

Darksaber made a fist in the air, then brought it crashing suddenly down to his side, as if he were smashing lives into the dirt beneath.

"**This place is the graveyard of the forgotten dead, without rest – alas, forever without rest!" **he howled.** "This is the resting place of those who now writhe in unspeakable torment, un-avenged. Cast aside any pride you may have in your experience with war. What transpired here occurred long before you were ever grown in the cloning vats of Kamino. Take the agony of those whose blood watered the ground beneath you, and taste it. Sense it. Take it and mold it into a rage, a rage at all that the Jedi have done to this galaxy – and take that rage in your hands. It is a weapon... a flame that sears your soul and the souls of your enemies. You must be prepared to use it."**

Darksaber was staring the duo down again. **"Do you recognize what is at stake?" **he growled.

Thresh saluted jerkily. "Yes, my Lord," he said in a voice like a rock.

Stride nodded. "Yes, sir," he echoed distantly.

Darksaber moved to the last pair of soldiers.

"**Gears. Chase."** There was a venomous disdain in his voice as he promptly continued to pace.

"**You know much of Teth. You have earned your ranks. You deserve every bloodstain, every burn-scar, on your armor. Yet, you think yourself prepared by all this?" **He whirled suddenly, his cape billowing out.** "Open your eyes! You are engineers. You are soldiers. You know the intricate mechanics of technology, the blind system of war – but do you know what you are here for? Do you know the depths of the power of the Force? The anguish of the open wound that the Jedi are, an eternal affliction in the infinite fabric of its energy?"**

Darksaber's voice dropped to a controlled snarl, lowering an octave, but it was both haunted and haunting, nevertheless.

"**You are here to kill. You will crush this nauseating injustice – you will cleanse this plague from the earth – or you will die for your arrogance, your obstinacy, your failure. Understood?"**

Gears did something between a nod and a salute before dropping to one knee.

Chase saluted properly, but his legs were shaking. He thought they might give way.

"**Go, then!"** Darksaber roared. **"I assure you, my anger is nothing beside the anger of my Master at the folly of fools. Do not provoke my Master to action – for my Master's justice is unrefined, and will consume you utterly. Do not tempt that judgment to crash down upon you, or you will vanish away, with no one to save you – as a breath of vapor vanishes into the atmosphere."**

"Yes, my Lord," the army chorused.

Darksaber nodded, pleased. Then he turned away, distantly observing the skyline, the sun at its place in the center of it, the gray mountains rising like black silhouettes against the light.

"**The Jedi cannot hope to hide in the caves forever," **he said. **"They are not as unskilled as you may expect, though they are young and brash. They will have taken to the mountains upon viewing the cruiser's descent, if not earlier. That they have obtained ascension cables, I have no doubt. Commander Breaker has failed to respond to my attempts to contact him.**

"**Go to the cliffs. Scale them with your ascension cables. Break into two waves, and entrap them. Fallout, Thresh, Chase – you are the first. Raze, Stride, Gears – you are the second. You may divide, if need be; but keep the waves closely tied together. I cannot afford for the Jedi to evade me again."**

The soldiers nodded in unison. They saluted. They snapped their blasters open, bracing the guns against their shoulders. Together they began to march.

Six commanders. Six squads. One mission.

Kill them.

Kill them one by one.

**...**

**A/N: **See? I promised approaching action, didn't I?

I'm setting things up for quite the confrontation.

Thanks for the advice, Freelancer Seal. I have a basic plot planned, but I have yet to write it and flesh it out. I'll keep what you said in mind, although it may or may not work out.

I'm building up to a sequence that I hope will surprise you, in some ways. Action is around the corner; I'm doing my best to maintain tension by moving between Darksaber and our heroes. Just like in a movie, when you can go behind the scenes, I have that advantage since I'm writing in the third-person omniscient POV. Things might look good from the mountains, but down here, a storm is gathering. I wanted to make sure I showed that.

I have more back story (specifically for Aaron, possibly, and later on Julia) to include, so I hope you're beginning to get a bit curious about what their childhoods were like. I'll also include some more information on Kherev's master, Lora Kii. You'll see how I fit that in.

Also... I'm convinced that the majority of these spacing errors are occuring during the upload. I appreciate you pointing them out, but some aren't really my fault. :P

Credit for the names Gears, Wolf Squad, and Amazon Squad go to both my sister and my father. I have a massive list of clone names that my sister helped me come up with for the future! :)

Thanks again. Please review!

May the Force be with you.


	36. Chapter XXXV: Ignition

_**Chapter XXXV: Ignition**_

It was a difficult climb, rugged and craggy, but survival was survival, so the Jedi managed.

Julia was surprised that her Padawan braid wasn't hanging annoyingly in her face like usual – until she remembered that it was gone. That brought on a series of violent flashbacks that nearly caused her to lose her grip on the ascension cable. She could almost feel the lightning again; forked bolts red-hot agony, eating her everything alive.

_You are nothing… No one… You will die alone –_

Her left foot, which was braced against an outcropping in the stone, nearly slipped.

"Julia, hang _on_!" Kherev called from above. He shifted his weight, one hand still clutching his cable, and leaned down as much as he dared to fix her with wide and panicked eyes.

"Sorry," Julia coughed, frantically righting herself, white-knuckling her cable. Her breathing was ragged. She focused on the sensation of the cable pressing into her skin, letting the discomfort draw her back to reality. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she said reflexively.

_Don't look down, _she reminded herself. _Just don't look down._

"Be careful, Julia!" Aaron warned, allowing his cable to lift him several yards more. His feet flailed, kicking up loose stones and dirt, but they settled on suitable grips after a moment.

"Watch yourself," Julia spat, and was caught off guard by how spiteful she sounded. He didn't deserve that, however exasperating he might be. She sighed and lowered her head, only to realize that she was looking down.

The forest to the southwest, the scattered clusters of indigenous Ryisyykian foliage, the river alongside the mountains, the cave they'd taken shelter in, all looked utterly insignificant from this height – like the toys of God. The mountain, which had appeared to be a vertical height from the ground, reaching to the heavens, now appeared to be an uneven, horizontal plane that stretched as far as the eye could see before meeting an impenetrable wall of what used to be the ground.

The dizzying height, the aching in her arms and legs and wrists and ankles, the nausea that resulted from the sudden change of perspective, all sent Julia's head reeling. She found herself desperately clutching at handhold after handhold, fearing that she might slip and fall, plummeting down the rock face, falling forever, crashing like a stone into the hard ground beneath, and shattering apart like glass.

It would be so easy. One wrong step. One false handhold. Death crouching at her door, ravenous for Jedi blood, craving the crimson draught…

Julia allowed the ascension cable to pull her up several feet more. She scrambled for outcroppings that would serve as supports for her feet and hands, banging her limbs blindly against the endless pillar of stone.

Up above, Kherev was making decent progress; but it was Aaron that was stealing the show. Kherev was built for stamina and agility – but Aaron was strong, diligent, and physically powerful. He doggedly scaled the cliff, even surpassing the Togruta in his rapid ascent. Aaron's incredible height afforded Kherev an uncomfortable view of his butt.

"Slow down, showoff," the Togrutamuttered. "Not all of us have monkey in us."

"So I'm a primate, now?" Aaron chuckled, reaching up for another handhold.

"No. Just the missing link," Hero called up at him. "Only half monkey. Still half human."

"Wow," Aaron mumbled. "I feel honored."

Julia laughed. But laughter made her shake, and the shaking made her hands tremble, cutting into the wire. She composed herself and clambered up another couple of feet.

It continued on like this for a while. Occasionally, (more often than she meant to,) Julia glanced up to see how Aaron was doing. She was stunned when he was the first to pull himself to safety on the nearest ledge.

It was a low outcropping in the grand scheme of the things, but it was far above the planet' surface, and it was the mountain's first plateau.

Kherev was the second to reach solid ground. Aaron offered a hand to pull him up, but the Togruta insisted, instead, on flipping forwards in a somersault that carried both him and his ascension cable to the plateau. It was a risky stunt, but he grinned when he landed it. "See, Aaron? You're not the only one who can climb."

Hero landed in quick pursuit. Julia thought that she would have caught up to him, if only she hadn't looked down. If only she hadn't looked back.

It was ironic, she thought, that after so many years of training in _letting things pass out of her life, _the things that she most wished to forget would scar her forever.

**...**

Commanders Fallout, Thresh, and Chase drew _Bravo Squad, Camo [flague] Squad, _and _Iron Squad _to a stop after a brief trek.

"We can camp here," Fallout said. "We'll track down the targets tomorrow." He cracked his knuckles, pounding one fist into the palm of his opposite hand. "It's about time someone took out these kids. They never belonged in this war."

"We need Ra'shah alive," Chase reminded him.

"The Togruta, correct?" Thresh asked.

"Uh-huh," Chase said. "And a Jedi Knight." He reached into a concealed pocket of his armor, retrieving a small, spherical device – something that looked to be a hybrid between a hologram projector and an EMP droid popper. "That's why we have these."

Fallout snatched the object from Chase's hand. "When did you get that? Where? How?"

Thresh seized it quickly, his arm whipping out and then back to his side like a serpent striking. He examined the peculiar object for a moment before stating, "It's an infrared wave transmitter."

"It's to incapacitate Ra'shah," Chase sighed. "He'll barely be able to move if that thing's in range of his hearing."

Fallout chuckled darkly. "Brutal. I like it."

Thresh shook his head. "It's a cheap gimmick, really. I prefer a straight fight."

"He's a Jedi," Chase interrupted. "He'd see us all dead, in the name of democracy." He spat on the ground. "Should've known. The Council's always wanted power."

"The darned Council can burn in Hades, for all I care," Fallout retorted. "We'll take these kids down. No problem."

Thresh stretched one hand out towards Chase, his palm open. "Can I see that?" he asked, pointing to the transmitter. "I want to make sure it works."

"It'll knock out our hearing!" Fallout snapped. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Let him see it," Chase shot back. "You'd have to have supersensitive, practically supernatural hearing to pick up that frequency. Only Ra'shah will be affected. The other two are secondary targets, remember?" he went on, simultaneously passing the transmitter to Thresh.

Thresh turned the tiny sphere over in his fingers, feeling its crevices, sensing its shape. "It's complex," he observed. "Expensive." He lowered his head to get a closer look. "They must really want these Jedi dead."

"Just test the thing," Fallout snarled.

Thresh raised a hand to placate him. "Hang on," he said. He turned the device over several more times, searching for a trigger or a switch. "Aha," he breathed. "There." He clicked a small button, and a little light on the left side of the device blinked green.

Chase closed his eyes and breathed hard, listening intently. "Are you sure it works?"

Fallout brought up some sort of scanner on the inside of his T-visor: a visual aid that his division had developed on Christophsis in order to detect radioactivity or explosives. "I'm detecting high frequencies. It works, alright."

Thresh nodded. "Good." He switched the thing off. The light blinked red, and then it died.

Fallout swore. "Something's wrong. I'm still picking up supersonic signals."

"That's impossible," Thresh growled. "I switched the darned thing off."

"Let me see," Chase interjected, seizing the device. After a second of examination, he announced, "Yep. Deactivated."

Fallout made a fist. "Then why am I still picking up radio waves?"

"Your helmet must be malfunctioning," Thresh decided. "Shut the heck up, already. I shut the thing down. We need to crash for the night, or we'll never manage to take out the Jedi."

Fallout's eyes blazed with black fire. "Do you _really _think _you _can talk to _me _like I'm some kind of shiny? I'm not droid-bait, Tarzan. I was one of the first soldiers chosen for this mission –"

Thresh crossed his arms. "_What _did you just call me?"

Fallout swore. "Shut up, Thresh."

"Watch yourself," Chase warned. "We're all experienced soldiers, and if you somehow think working in a cityscape makes you superior –"

"Shut it," Thresh interjected.

Chase growled. "Hey, I just –"

"Shut it!" Thresh said again. "I hear something."

Fallout shook one fist in the air. "Are you losing your mind, Tarzan?"

"Listen," Thresh whispered, unfazed. He raised a hand for silence.

Somewhere up above, a guttural screech echoed through the valley below.

Chase started muttering a stream of unintelligible profanities under his breath. "Dang it, dang it, dang it…"

Thresh whipped a pair of binoculars out of a pocked in his camouflage pants, scanning the sky for any sign of danger.

Fallout froze, becoming like an outgrowth of the rock beneath his boots. He lowered his fist, frantically seizing his gun from his side, aiming it blindly in all directions. His heart pounded hollowly, a bass drum in his chest. "Whatin _blue blazes_ –" he started.

And then a dragon swooped down and seized Chase by the throat.

…

The Jedi fell into a temporary sleep at about noon. They heard the screaming about a half-an-hour later.

Aaron had been on guard duty, so he was the one to rush to his allies' sides – but they had already jolted awake, jarred by the tortured shrieks coming from outside.

"A trap," Hero choked out. "A trap."

But Julia was already sprinting.

She'd heard that sound before, on the battlefield, as some innocent civilian went up in flames, incinerated by the droid armies. She'd made a sound just like it, writhing in the inexorable clutches of Darksaber's lightning. The sound churned her stomach. Her heart was in her throat as she staggered sleepily from the cave, bashing her head on the low exit in her haste to get out there, to do something, to stop that terrible, agonized noise –

"_Stop_!" Kherev wailed, struggling to keep his voice low. "Julia, _stop_!"

"It's a trap, Julia, it's a _trap_!" Aaron yelled. "_Stop_!"

But Julia was already running, now racing, now sprinting across the rugged stone, streaking across the mountainous plateau, eyes wide, heart and lungs clenched and tied in a knot around one another.

Aaron took off in hot pursuit, his head ringing with a silent scream of his own. Kherev launched into a sprint after him, tailed by Thirty-nine. The shrieking got louder, and Aaron couldn't shake off the thick déjà vu he was feeling. He'd done this before, when it was Julia wailing… but the sound was too deep to be truly compared to Julia.

They were masculine howls. A soldier's howls. And then the howls cut off, dissolving into a dull, wet, gurgling noise as some miserable predator tore into a clone's neck.

The Jedi were getting close now, close enough to see a dense pack of clone troopers up ahead, but Julia was running on adrenaline now, and adrenaline didn't differentiate between ally and enemy, hunter and hunted, murderer and murdered.

Julia was the first one to see the thing.

It was huge, and hideous, and so horribly, maniacally twisted that she nearly turned and ran – but she couldn't move. She was too afraid to move.

The dragon hovered above, its spiked, leathery wings beating the wind with such force that a whirling gale tore down and blew Julia's hair in the sudden wind.

The animal's long neck ended in a head that was crowned with a pair of large, bone-white horns that curved away from it in opposite directions. The creature's massive mouth was open, its rows of jagged teeth ripping into the soft flesh of Commander Chase's throat, its forked, black tongue spitting out blood that gushed from the wound.

The dragon's nostrils flared, and it snarled a keening, nasally, groaning growl that echoed in all directions.

Its eyes – a dead, sulfur-yellow – glowered down at Julia. Suddenly, it let Commander Chase fall to the ground.

"No," Julia mouthed, but she couldn't speak, she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no…"

She recalled a discussion that Aaron had with Hero.

_These dragon things… supposed to live in the mountains… nobody believes that crud… supposed to be dangerous…_

Julia stared at it.

_Not happening. This is not happening._

In the shafts of sunlight that cut through the gathering herd of black cumulus clouds, the dragon's scaly hide glistened like chrome. The ribbed, overlapping chest plates that armored its underbelly rose and fell with a heavy, hungry breathing.

Julia swallowed. Her knees might buckle, at any moment. Her heart might tear out of her chest, at any moment. She might double over, at any moment, and throw up.

_Not happening._

Mythology. Legends. Monsters.

Wasn't she a little old to be afraid of monsters?

The dragon flew further down, hovering only a few yards above now, only a few yards away. It was lean, with the thickest muscle gathered in its chest, hind legs, and anterior shoulders. Its claws extended – four on the back feet, five on the front – all poised like switchblades to seize prey and rip it to ribbons.

Thorn-like spikes ran from the nape of the neck, traveling down the creature's back, thinning out and continuing down its lengthy, flexible tail that was whipping about through the air like a weapon, crowned with menacing spikes at its end.

It happened very fast. With a sharp, lizard-like _snarl-hiss_, the creature snapped into a dive for Julia. She didn't find her voice. It cried out for her.

"No, _please_, no, no, _no_ –"

"Get clear!" Aaron screamed, from somewhere behind her, and suddenly, strong arms tackled Julia to the ground.

**A/N: **Hahahahahahahaha! I planned this from the moment I mentioned the dragon legends. Wa ha ha! Thanks to my sister for helping me with inspiration for the dragons… and for miming some of the approaching fight scene as I explained it to her. I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard!

I hope I've caught you off guard, but not too off guard. Good off guard, if you know what I mean. I thought that some dragons would fit the ancient, almost tribal, almost… mythological… atmosphere of Darksaber's past – and his home planet, Ryisyyyk.

Much of the inspiration for the rock climbing scene came from some personal experience of mine. I went rock climbing at an indoor place with a belay, more than once, and when I looked down it was really jarring. I tried to capture how I felt (as limited as words can be, sometimes, in describing personal experience) in how Julia reacted to the cliff.

Also, this chapter is named directly after a Toby Mac song that I'm in love with.

Thanks for reading. Please review!

May the Force be with you.


	37. Chapter XXXVI: Turbulence

_** Chapter XXXVI: Turbulence**_

Julia hit the ground with a sharp groan as someone's knee jabbed into her lower back, crushing her facedown against the stone. She'd learned to improve her reaction time since the last raid's stranglehold incident, though, and she instinctively called her lightsaber to her hand, ignited it, and swung up, over, and around in a wide blue arc before anyone could restrain her limbs.

A loud crash, a spray of energy colliding with energy, and her blade curved back on her in a shower of sparks, her strike deflected uselessly back to her side by a –

Yellow saberstaff?

"Stay down!" Kherev warned.

A dark shadow passed over them – the dragon? – and there was a horrible screech like metal scraping against metal, followed by a hiss of sizzling scales and flesh as Aaron leapt into the air, sword extended, and ran it straight down the dragon's vulnerable underbelly. The predator roared like something of a nightmare. Warm, wet blood spat out of its wound, splattering up against the back of Kherev's robe.

The dragon's momentum kept it sailing over Kherev and Julia for several feet, and it tumbled across the rocks, its wings tearing on loose stones, its claws scratching blindly at the air – and it wailed all the while, unnatural growls of fury. It slid several yards before finally grinding to a stop on the hard, stone ground, where it laid in pain, moaning miserably, its tail thrashing about, its wings hopelessly beating the air. Its wails echoed through the valley below.

Aaron landed solidly, his flip carrying him over his fellow Jedi into a crouch facing the dragon. He breathed hard, drawing the Force into himself, pulling his arms back so that they were braced against his chest. With a shout, he thrust his open palms forward, letting emotion and tension, panic and adrenaline, finite self and infinite Force, tear out of him.

The resulting shockwave sent the dragon soaring unceremoniously over the edge of the cliff with a final, grating shriek.

Aaron fell to one knee. A hollow heaviness overcame him – like someone had ripped a hole in his chest. He gasped, waiting for the identity he called _Earthshaker _to come back from where he'd set it loose.

The Force trickled slowly into him. Life dripped back into his veins.

Kherev released his hold on Julia. "Up!" he said.

Julia rocketed to her feet, her heart hammering. She felt like she'd forgotten how to breathe. "Nice one, Aaron," she managed.

He smiled weakly. "I try."

Across from the Jedi, the clone troopers lowered their weapons to attack position. DC-15s snapped down from shoulders in near-perfect, mechanical unison.

"What a surprise." Commander Fallout's false humor was dry and colorless. "Ra'shah. Earthshaker. Star. We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said. "Surrender, lay down your arms, and we'll take you alive."

Kherev white-knuckled the hilt of his blade as he slowly slid it from his belt. His reply emerged through bared teeth. "Try me."

Aaron raised his lightsaber to face-level, a crisp blue flame licking at the edge of his peripheral vision. His chest clenched like a fist, and his stomach turned inside of his chest. "We've done nothing to harm the Republic," he said in a tight growl, and he swallowed hard. "We're Jedi. If you're going to betray us, we won't go down without a fight."

Julia made no move to draw her lightsaber. "There doesn't have to be a fight," she said, bitter regret lacing the words. She stared directly at Fallout. "You can't have forgotten so soon – you were our allies in the war. It doesn't have to be this way. For any of us."

Fallout lowered his heavy combat blaster. "I already asked you once more than necessary, Jedi, but I'll repeat myself." His voice was cold as durasteel, immovable. "Surrender now – or die."

The clones stepped back into ready stances. Armored hands tightened on blaster triggers. The thin mountain air swam with wordless silence as they tensed for the kill.

At the head of the ranks, Commander Stride glanced distantly aside to glimpse Chase's mangled, blood-soaked corpse, the head wrenched halfway from the shoulders, still fitfully spurting crimson. It was nauseating.

Stride lowered his head and stared at his boots. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't end well for any of them.

_Not my choice._

The realization stung like a crack in his spine.

His life or death had never been in his own hands. They never would be.

Eyes closed, heart pounding, he slowly drew his DC-17 blaster pistol from its holster at his side. He would go down fighting like a man. Whatever else this warped galaxy took from him, it would never conquer his dignity.

Stride breathed hard, sweat beading on his forehead beneath his helmet. He opened his eyes. He took aim, gloved fingers quivering against the ice-cold trigger of his gun.

Fallout shot him a glare that said, _don't you dare screw this up now._

After all, their lives depended on it. This was what they were created for: they were instruments of the Jedi Order's collapse.

_Surrender – or die. _

Funny how Jedi and clone alike faced the same impossible choice.

Stride nodded. He knew what he had to do. The sad part was how he never knew it until now, and there was nothing he could do to alter the course that had been planned for him since Kamino.

_Surrender – or die. _

Stride surrendered.

"Aim," he instructed his squad. "On three."

Thirty-nine exchanged glances with the Jedi. "We're going to die,"he said.

Julia set her teeth. Chills began to shiver out from the base of her spine. "Not yet," she whispered.

Aaron leaned into an attack stance, his blade humming in sync with his pounding heart. "Follow me," he said, his Jedi restraint bending towards the breaking point. He felt his hands curl into fists, and hot sweat beaded on his forehead. "This is it."

This was it.

Do or die.

Kherev raised an open palm for silence. "Wait." He looked up at the sky, his maroon eyes searching the clouds.

Stride turned to his troops, checking that they were all in ready positions; then he nodded. "One," he counted.

Kherev took a sharp breath. "Wait for it."

"Wait for what?" Aaron growled.

"There's no time," Thirty-nine agreed.

Stride turned his focus to the Jedi, staring them down. "Two," he counted.

"Two," Fallout echoed to his squad.

"Wait for it," Kherev said again. "I hear things you can't. Trust me."

Heat flushed Aaron's face. "And get us _killed_?" he retorted.

Stride took a sharp breath. He looked at Fallout. The commander nodded his approval, and Stride turned back to his squad.

"Three," he said. "_Fire_!"

And the world exploded.

This was the battle on the battered Ryisyykian cliffs:

Aaron, howling forwards into the dense pack of clones, his blade raised to slice through anyone in the path of the roaring, flaming torrent of light and heat that he had become, carving through soldiers, shearing away limbs, tearing life out –

Kherev, saberstaff flashing and flaring to life; he was a consuming whirlwind of power and control, refined into a blur of energy; now spinning, now leaping, now wheeling into the fray, tearing through clone after clone after clone in a rush of pure adrenaline –

Julia, her weapon spinning from her belt, the electric blue blade extending even before it reached her open hand; a rush of wind, a shifting in the fabric of the Force, and she slipped seamlessly into a smooth leap that carried her into a dive-roll; she came up and around, her saber flashing into a sharp thrust –

Thirty-nine, custom blaster launching into action, and he was on the defensive already; he fell back from the clash and growl of the pandemonium, heart racing in his chest, gun still raised in instinctive panic, launch-ready, the butt braced against his shoulder, the trigger prepared to fire –

Repeating blasters, heavy artillery, standard-issue DC-15s, DC-17 pistols, opening fire; a pell-mell rain of plasma shots, flashing forwards, a half-invisible onslaught, glowing red in the dark shadows cast by the storm clouds that were thickening further overhead –

Bodies fell.

The first to fall: a _Bravo Squad _soldier, veteran in combat, favorite of Commander Fallout, recently transferred to Christophsis before he was summoned to Ryisyyyk, his designated name being "Shade." He took the front line offensive, but his bulky gun weighed him down – no time to dodge the sudden, upward sweep of Earthshaker's sword. The clone called Shade saw his chest rip open, cleaved through by blue fire, and without a cry he crashed to the ground, damaged armor showering dull orange sparks, and he gasped away the last shreds of his life. Pain swirled together with numb defeat and dissolved into darkness.

Only the first kill, taken down in seconds – and more to come.

A flash of light in his peripheral vision, and an _Iron Squad _clone called Bolt went down without even knowing his slayer to be Julia Star. She back-flipped over him, arcing above, weapon drawn. Her sparkling blade slashed from his right shoulder down across his back, leaving a curved, orange-glowing gash. He collapsed, but she landed solidly, already moving to take down another pair of soldiers that were sprinting in from the left.

Those in close range of Star and Earthshaker backed away, keeping tight formation, their sights still trained on the Jedi. But, panic seizing them, they hesitated; a mistake that would prove fatal for some.

Two quick rounds of gunfire from Thirty-nine, and another pair of the late Commander Chase's men were cut down – Nite and Splinter – brief shouts from both, and they hit the ground hard. Coughs of pain, choked gasps dragging through his throat, and Nite closed his eyes. Splinter was stronger, and he never did give up; he managed to haul himself several feet across the rugged stone before his face fell, pain racking his chest where the blasterfire had penetrated his armor, and he felt the cold grip of death take him away.

Simultaneously, across the cliff, a tangled slaughter – Kherev took the attackers' opposite flank. He came roaring in towards Commander Stride's _Camo [flague] Squad_, like a jungle beast in his ferocity, his saberstaff tearing like claws through the Kashyyyk veterans' anterior offense. Roshyr, Syren, Tek, Kash, and Yak – all felled like dominoes – five down in the wake of the Togruta's charge. They collapsed, armor clanging against them, as their bodies struck the stone ground with dull thuds of armor against rock.

The dying yells of the fallen, haunting, yet all but eclipsed by the storming fight – guns all ablaze, blasterfire ricocheting off of drawn lightsabers with crackling hisses, the Jedi tearing through their enemy, soldiers crashing down in the hateful grip of death's abyss – snarling energy, shouts of pain, orders called out above the madness, but the troops began to scatter.

"Hold your ground!" Fallout blared, fist raised. "Keep _firing_!"

"Surround and overwhelm!" Stride snapped at his men. He drew a second DC-17, one for each hand – his pistols flashed with precision aim. "Keep formation. Spread out!"

Commander Chase having been killed by the dragon, _Iron Squad _was in a tumultuous uproar. No orders, no one in charge – in honor of their leader, some ran in blind to meet the Jedi face-to-face, blasters blazing. But what was a blaster against the Force? What effect would a gun have when faced with a lightsaber?

Those daring (and foolish) enough to break away from the pack rarely got far before a rush of the Force, directed by Julia, sent them sprawling. Aaron came on ahead, bearing down on the staggered soldiers – cut down! – his blade piercing and slashing as he finished off the clone ranks.

Kherev tore his way into the heat and heart of the conflict. Blasterfire trained on him was either deflected or reflected back at the clones; the knotted mess of killers and killed found themselves shooting down _each other_ in the confusion, the red-orange blur of the Jedi Knight weaving through the chaos without a start.

Thirty-nine, like a wolf prowling the outskirts of the battlefield, picked off stray soldiers from a safe distance. Weaving and dodging, he hung back from the battle; nevertheless, he cut down several clones.

All the while, wave upon wave of gunfire; lightsabers spun and deflected the endless shots. Seconds piled on seconds. The rush of raw battle, the red haze of conflict –

And then it happened.

Drawing his saberstaff out of a clone trooper's back, Kherev turned and called to his allies, "_Incoming_!" He lifted his eyes to the sky. "Stay clear!"

Aaron and Julia exchanged glances.

Thirty-nine tightened his grip on his blaster.

Twin shadows, massive, began to emerge from the dark sheet of clouds overhead. Two predators swooped down, teeth and claws bared, spiked wings whipping the air into frenzy. They roared, their metallic screeches splitting the sky – shattering cries! – and fresh waves of black terror seized the troops ranging below, shuddering through the ranks.

Aaron gasped. "How –"

"The dragons have supersonic signals," Kherev stammered. "My montrals can hear them. You can't."

It was at that point – the descent of the two dragons – that the tide of battle began to turn.

The troops withdrew in a panic. The clones drew together, their squads packing into a defensive formation – _Bravo Squad, Camo [flague] Squad, Iron Squad _– forming a barrier. They raised their guns, watching the dragons' descent.

"Steady," Stride said. "Steady."

The silence was deafening.

The twin dragons' sulfur-yellow eyes examined the Jedi and clones below – warm hunks of fresh meat in the animals' sight.

The dragons hovered there, silhouetted against the clouds, for what felt like a small infinity, although it was only a short span of seconds. Intelligent for non-sentient creatures, they scanned the prey below with an instinct-driven sense of primitive logic. Ravenous hunger boiled in their stomachs.

The sky began to rumble, the gathering storm starting to intensify – peals of thunder rolled through the black clouds.

The sulfur eyes never wavered in their fixed, deathly stares. Where to pounce? The thick-shelled things, too hard and shiny, packed closely together; the soft ones, they had fire in their hands, deadly fire; the lone, tough-shelled one, the only prey unprotected by a pack –

A hellish growl, another burst of thunder, and the first dragon's wings pulled back, its shape more angular now, and it cut into a dive that sliced cleanly through the air. Claws sprawled out, bone-white; razor-sharp teeth bared and jagged; spiked tail tense with the thrill of the hunt as the beast closed on its quarry –

"Thirty-nine!" Julia cried, and broke into a run for Thirty-nine – to help him; defend him; tackle him? – she had no idea, but she was already running now, praying that she would just be fast enough, that she would just be fast enough to do _something_...

"Get _down_!" Aaron shouted.

Kherev burst out, "Julia, don't! You'll _both _get us killed!"

Too late.

Too late to stop Julia, and too late for her to stop the predator's attack.

Thirty-nine let out a scream as the dragon's claws seized him by the shoulders. The world reeled and spun, the ground became sky, and the sky became ground, and his custom blaster clattered ineffectually to the stone – above or below? – his vision jerked and swam and whirled – warm, noxious breath rolled out in his face; the stench of raw meat and blood; his stomach roiled, twisted inside of his chest, violent rolls of nausea – he jerked and thrashed, bound by the claws, captured, desperate and unable to escape – death and life flashing before his eyes –

Pale yellow irises met his own.

**...**

** A/N: **I know, this update took forever. I was losing my hold on these characters; I'd built up to this scene, and I had no idea how I was going to pull it off. I stopped feeling connected to the plot and the characters. My writer's mind just deflated like a broken tire. I felt like I had to live up to something; I'd been building up to this, and it had to be good. It had to do justice to what I've been hoping it would be, (mainly because I wanted it to be good enough that I myself wouldn't be disappointed.)

Well, the trigger that sent me back into this battle scene was, in fact, school. I'm reading a translation of the _Iliad _in school, and the battle scenes really impressed me – if you notice a change in the style of this battle scene, it's because I drew heavily on the _Iliad_: naming characters before I killed them, referencing death dragging people away, and even certain phrases I took from it ("hateful death", "shattering cries".)

I'm hardly a Homer, but the _Iliad _really informed this scene.

I know where I'm taking this fight now; I have all the major beats of it planned out in my head, so have no fear – I'll update again at some point, I'm just not sure when.

Please review! Thanks to those of you who already have (Freelancer Seal... cough... Freelancer Seal... cough... is awesome... cough.)

May the Force be with you!


	38. Chapter XXXVII: Hurricane

_**Chapter XXXVII: Hurricane**_

Thirty-nine howled as the dragon's jaw closed down around his helmet, jagged teeth biting hard, trying to tear through to the vulnerable skin beneath. But no give – the Kaminoans were masters at manufacturing functional, durable armor for the Grand Army. The dragon snarled in irritation with its failure, trying to yank the helmet clean off.

Thirty-nine yelled down to his allies below. "Help! _Help_!"

Julia looked at Aaron, wide-eyed. "_Do _something!" she shouted.

"It's not like I have wings!" he shot back.

Overhead, the sky boomed with a fresh roll of thunder.

The dragon shifted its grip on Thirty-nine, claws grappling at his arms, trying to stop his wild thrashing. It dragged its teeth down his chest, but still, the armor held. The clone jerked in the predator's clutches, twisting, kicking up, and he drove the heel of one boot into the base of the dragon's neck. The monster flinched, its neck jolting backwards, its tail tensing in response to the pain, but its grip still held fast. It leaned down, teeth bared, still attempting to dig into the soft neck of its prey.

"You have to try _something_!" Julia gasped.

"There's nothing to do," Kherev stammered. "He's too high up!"

Across the cliff, Commander Stride raised his twin DC-17s. He aimed at the Togruta. "Keep firing!" he ordered the troops. "It's time to finish this!"

At that, Kherev wheeled round, his saberstaff raised in defense. His eyes, blood-raw, were glazed with thick fatigue. "Don't try anything," he warned.

Aaron moved to cover the Togruta's flank. Sweat glistened on his forehead and the muscles of his bare chest, the chest that was heaving heavily with raw gasps; he was so short of breath. Each inhale burned his lungs, every breath only serving to tighten them further.

Stride looked at his troops. "At my signal!" he ordered.

Julia was still staring at Thirty-nine as the clone soared higher and higher. "Do something to _help him_!"

Aaron swallowed. "We... _can't_," he choked out.

Kherev twirled his saberstaff, shifting into a dual-handed block, prepared to deflect incoming fire. "Brace yourself, Earthshaker," he said, nodding to Aaron.

"Now – _fire_!" Stride shouted, fingers tensing against his pistols' triggers.

But suddenly, a shout of panic –

"Wait!" Fallout blared. He raised his heavy blaster towards the sky, the bracing to fire. "It's coming on!"

Overhead, Thirty-nine screamed. His arms were useless, restrained by the animal's claws. The world spun, a confused tornado of vertigo, and he kicked about in desperation – was he kicking up or down? – but all in vain. He jerked in the dragon's clutches, facedown now, dangling over the cliff that dropped farther and farther below as the dragon dragged him higher, higher, higher, spiraling towards the black clouds. Deafening growls reverberated in his ears.

The sky trembled with thunder-rolls, and it began to flash, bolts of white light tearing across the clouds, splitting the air with crackles of heat.

Across the sky, a new threat –

The second dragon, flame-eyes glittering, arced down into a dive for the ground troops. It landed solidly in the heart of the ranks, its tail whipping back and forth, its head slowly turning from side to side.

Fallout cursed and fired his gun.

The bolt glanced ineffectually off of the predator's scaly hide, but it left a dull burn. The beast roared with fury, the speed of its thrashing tail doubling; the tail swept across the stone so sharply, it caught two clones in the backs of their knees, and they staggered.

"Darn it, Fallout!" Stride snapped, frantically backing away from the oncoming animal, pistols still raised. "Get clear! Everyone!"

With a feverish shriek, the dragon lashed out with its claws at any and all within range, slashing in all directions. Another soldier went down, struck across the face; his helmet hit the ground with a sharp crack. He scrambled backwards, eyes wide with horror as the massive bulk of the dragon towered over him, a long, dark shadow looming above. And then it lunged.

Overhead, Thirty-nine let out another scream as he felt pressure begin to tighten around his neck. Teeth like knives pushed their way between his chest armor and his helmet, diving into the warm flesh of his throat, and he wailed and gurgled, blood starting to spurt from lacerations on his neck as the dragon's teeth pressed in.

A cough.

A gasp.

He convulsed, scarlet splattering against his T-visor, pain ripping through his windpipe, hot and sharp.

Then the first lightning bolt hit.

Thunder exploded into the loudest peal yet; a split second of tense silence, and then the lightning forked down. The bolt flashed white-hot, flashing down towards the nearest object, towards the highest target –

Thirty-nine's dragon took the shock full force.

Thirty-nine felt heat tear through him. White light blinded his eyes. Pain shot through his bones, raw fire coursing through his veins, and the dragon roared. Thirty-nine felt the teeth rip out of his neck, tearing some raw bits of his own flesh with it, the pain all but lost in the white heat-haze... and then he was plummeting towards the stone below.

Pain was already all he knew, but Thirty-nine still felt the impact when he hit the ground, his helmet tumbling off at the shock. It rolled across the cliff with a clatter. Thirty-nine bounced once, over the end – his skull crashed sharply against the edge of the mountain – and then he was dropping into empty air, nothing to catch him, no one to stop him from falling, _falling_... falling_ faster_...

Julia was already running towards him, but not quickly enough. He was already crashing towards the ground far below – but she reached out, palm open, and stretched out with all the strength she had. The Force leapt out from her, the air visibly parting as the energy crested down towards the falling clone, and he came to a stop in midair, hovering uncertainly.

Julia gasped. She gritted her teeth. Exhaustion jolted through her, a physical pang, and she struggled to draw the clone back to the ground. Another sharp breath, a jerk of her arm – and he was up. Thirty-nine crashed hard to the cliff above, out cold.

He didn't move. He didn't get up.

It was hard to tell if he was breathing.

Julia dropped to her knees beside the clone, frantically yanking off one of his gauntlets. Possibilities shot like fractures through her mind.

_Collapsed lung... concussion... shock... internal bleeding... dent in his skull... loss of blood... broken bones... _

Carefully, eyes closed, hand trembling, Julia pressed two fingers to her friend's wrist. A desperate whisper emerged from her quivering lips: "Please have a pulse... please, _please _have a pulse..."

A faint pressure ran beneath Julia's fingers.

_A pulse_!

But thin, and erratic...

Another crash –

Julia wheeled around, ready to activate her lightsaber, but it was Thirty-nine's dragon, cut down from above by the lightning strike. The monster groaned, eyes wide, leathery wings burned to a crisp. An agonized moan, and it lowered its head.

Its chest rose. Its chest fell. Its chest rose.

The dragon closed its eyes, and then its chest didn't rise.

Aaron, seeing that it was dead, sent a blast of the Force in its direction. It hurtled over the edge of the cliff, and then the charred corpse was gone from view.

Julia was still knelt down beside Thirty-nine. The sky rumbled, flashing with lightning. Sheets of rain began roaring from above, dripping down the clone's cold, unmoving armor.

"Come on," Julia breathed. "Wake up, _please_, just wake up..." Her eyes burned with unshed tears; but she was too numb to cry. Something boiled in her chest, a worm of fear, and her stomach turned violently. Icy rain dripped down her face. "Wake _up_, Hero... Thirty-nine... just _wake up_..."

The fight raged around them.

Across the cliff, the other fiend – enraged.

The second dragon hissed, its forked black tongue spitting warm blood, as it dropped another headless clone's mangled body to the dirt in a spray of crimson. The soldiers scattered, firing wildly, out of control now – but their shots only served to infuriate the creature further. It flew up, wings smacking the swirling air and pelting rain, and it darted forward. Several clones staggered back, stunned, mad with panic; several lost their footing, and consequently, lost their helmets. A few found themselves crushed to the ground, the dragon's head ramming into their chest, pushing them down – some were disarmed, their guns slipping from their hands as they hit the ground hard.

And then, a flash of heat. Of light.

Kherev's saberstaff stabbed upwards, cleaving through the monster's heart, and it went down without a cry.

The clones stared blankly at the dragon's dead body.

Thunder rumbled. Rain pounded the cliff, lightning flashing above.

Kherev turned to face the clones. He grinned coolly. "This fight is over." He raised his blade, angling it towards Commander Fallout like an accusing finger. "Surrender now, hand over your supplies, and we'll let you live."

Fallout swallowed. "This isn't a game."

Stride lowered his pistols. He looked at the remainder of _Camo [flague] Squad. _He looked at Julia, still trying to revive that traitor clone. He looked at Kherev.

Then it hit him.

Stride looked at Fallout. "The transmitter," he whispered. "The supersonic _transmitter_..."

Kherev sauntered forward. He swung down, his blade meeting a soldier's back, and the clone collapsed. The Togruta stepped over the plasma-burnt body without a second glance.

_See what I will do to every one of you, if you don't do as I say... _

"I said," the Jedi repeated, "surrender now."

Fallout glanced over at Chase's mangled body. In a pool of blood, inches from his dead, outstretched hand, the transmitter lay – coughing out sparks, the lights on its panel flashing spasmodically.

It was broken.

It had broken the moment Commander Chase fell from the dragon's grip.

Kherev swung up and around. Two more clones crashed to the ground, clutching their chests where the golden saberstaff had torn the life from them.

"Don't test me," the Jedi snarled. "I will not hesitate to cut you all down, one by one... or worse." He glared at Fallout. "You're right. This isn't a game. This is about life or death, and I will kill _all_ of you... if you don't lay down your arms, _now_, as I say, and hand over your supplies, to me, here, _now_."

Stride ground his teeth together.

Fallout's fingers tensed on the trigger of his blaster. He took a deep breath. He braced the butt of the gun against his shoulder.

"Sorry, Jedi," he said, "but I'll take you down with me."

Then it all happened very fast.

Stabbing, slashing, leaping, whirling, swing after satisfying swing, and the last remnants of _Bravo Squad, Camo [flague] Squad, _and _Iron Squad _met an ugly end at the hands of Jedi Knight Kherev Ra'shah.

When it was over, the mangled bodies lying at the Togruta's feet, he extinguished his blade and turned to his allies. "We have to move."

"I'll carry Thirty-nine," Julia volunteered, hoisting the clone over her shoulder. "He's out cold. But he's alive."

Aaron deactivated his lightsaber, returning it to his belt. "Kherev's right. We have to take off before more troops track us here." He looked at the Togruta. "The waterfall. We'll head there. We can get cleaned up, and the water might revive Thirty-nine."

Kherev nodded his assent. "Sounds like a plan." He turned to lead the way to the waterfall – but then he froze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Kherev?" Julia asked. "Are you alright?"

Kherev closed his eyes. Waves of sound, closer than he wanted them to be, shot through his montrals.

_Not now... not when we're so close..._

"What is it?" Aaron gasped. "What do you hear, Kherev?"

"_Soldiers_."

**...**

**A/N: **And so I leave you with a "cliffhanger," literally... *laughter*

Freelancer Seal, thanks so much for the positive review. I'm really glad this scene is working out!

More action to come, of course. I'm not letting the suspense drop just yet. Thanks for reading, and please review.

May the Force be with you!


	39. Chapter XXXVIII: What Hurts the Most

_**Chapter XXXVIII: What Hurts the Most  
><strong>_

Far from the battle-ravaged world of Ryisyyyk, situated between the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim, the Expansion region was silent and still to the naked eye. The dead expanse of space hung cold and thick around the various planets hovering in their respective orbits. The air was soundless, a wordless witness to all that occurred on the worlds below. The emotionless void stared indifferently out upon the universe.

Empty.

Calm.

Silence.

But not for the hunted.

**...**

Master Lora Kii drew her sprint to a sharp stop, panting. She reached up with one calloused hand, clutching a tree branch for support.

_You're almost there, _she reminded herself. _It's close now._

The rainforest was thinning up ahead, dropping into a clear valley. She broke into a sharp run again. The rampant foliage around her blurred with speed as her long legs flew across the rugged earth below.

A few moments, and the Jedi Master was almost doubled over from the strain.

Lora breathed hard, leaning on another tree. The yellow disc of the sun in the sky beat heavily down upon her, hammering heat. Perspiration glistened on her dark tan skin. She ran her fingers through her night-black hair, pushing her ponytail off of her sweaty neck. She took another sharp breath. It stung the dry skin of her throat. She was so _thirsty..._

_Why did the clones have to secure the river? _she reflected, and sighed. _Think about it. __Of course that's where they would start. _

_It's easier for them if I dehydrate to death._

Which, unfortunately, seemed like a valid possibility.

Lora Kii leaned her head against the tree's rough bark. She would make it to the meeting place. She _had to_. Sai had assured her of fresh provisions, and she so desperately needed those provisions if she was going to survive long enough to find a way off this rock.

Her former Padawan... Kherev had escaped. And so would she. She would escape, and she would find him, and she would not let these traitorous soldiers anywhere _near him_ –

Lora forced herself to silence her thoughts. _Kherev is strong enough, _she reminded herself. _I trained him to be self-sufficient. He can hold his own. I know he can._

She needed to focus on her own survival. For today, that meant making it to the meeting place that she and Sai had agreed upon.

Breathing jaggedly, Lora Kii forced herself to start running again.

**...**

Sai Ra'shah paced the clearing, his brazen spear clenched in his scarlet fist. His face was set like stone, his jaw tight; but even these precautions could not conceal his inner stress, and he knew this all too well.

_Remember – you're on a hunting trip, _he thought._ Act like it._

It was a good cover, he supposed. That was a comfort, at some level; but still, his stomach twisted and turned with panic that he could not entirely conceal. Sure, his family was out hunting Akul – it would look normal enough to an outsider. But to a _clone, _if the soldiers became _suspicious _–

The risks, the risks, the risks.

Sai Ra'shah swallowed. He hadn't been looking forward to this meeting when he arranged it, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to it now. He had good relations with the Jedi Master, yes. She had raised his eldest boy into a proud warrior of a man – or so he had been told.

But Kherev Ra'shah was gone.

He'd been gone for years.

He had never come back.

Family relations were discouraged among members of the Jedi Order.

And Sai's heart was heavy with the pain of his lost son.

He was proud of Kherev, certainly. He wouldn't have wanted anything less for his talented boy. But even when Aiya Ra'shah, Sai's wife, gave birth to their youngest son, Seth, it failed to alleviate the pain of Kherev's departure. Master Lora Kii had left a wound that refused to heal.

Sai set his teeth when she visited, but deep in his core, something stirred – something violent. This woman had hurt him. This woman had hurt his family.

This woman had taken his son.

Sai Ra'shah continued to pace the clearing. He breathed deeply of the crisp, fresh afternoon air, but it failed to lessen the tightness of the knot in his stomach.

_What have I done?_

The question reeled inside of his skull.

_What have I done?_

The soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic – they must know he had given up his son to the Jedi, all those years ago. They must know of his deep-seated sympathy for the Order. They must know that he did not approve of these recent measures that had been taken. They must know of any and all who dared to resist Order 66.

Sai lowered his head.

His beautiful, loving wife, Aiya; his brash, headstrong son, Seth; his tribe, the great and mighty Bear Clan – he would betray them all, he would slander their honor, he would risk their _lives_ – for the sake of this one Jedi? To save the life of this one woman?

This woman had taken his son.

_Too late to back out now – _

The trees rustled. A soft thud of leather boots in the grass, a ragged gasping, and Master Lora Kii pushed her way through the rainforest trees.

She looked a fright.

The light was gone from her hazel eyes. Her long, silky black hair, usually pulled back into a neat ponytail, was unkempt, and her face was sweat-soaked. Her skin, naturally dark, had further been burned by the sun's rays. Cuts, scrapes, bruises, and tears from trees, bushes, thorns and the like had left their marks on her robe and her body. Her hands were visibly calloused from clawing through the jungle, running for her life.

But she was alive. She'd made it here.

Sai couldn't help feeling a stab of guilt when he realized that part of him wished she hadn't.

"Master Jedi," the Togruta acknowledged, his voice rich and resonating. He gave a slight nod in greeting, but he didn't grant her the customary bow that he would usually provide to a warrior of her caliber. These strained circumstances made everything tense.

"Sai," Lora greeted, straightening where she stood. She stepped forward, out of the trees, pushing a branch away from her face. She took a sharp breath. "I – I can't even begin to explain how much I appreciate this. If not for you – if I'd been left to... wander the jungle, like some kind of Akul –"

Sai raised one hand – the one that wasn't holding his ashen spear – for silence. "I'm glad to know that you appreciate my help, Master Jedi," he said, "but I ask you to realize that I can't afford to be responsible for your survival."

"Of course. I understand." Lora nodded. "I can defend myself, if it comes to confrontation – even if you simply need me to hunt some of my own provisions. But the promise of shelter, even if it be for the time being alone –"

Sai set his teeth.

_Say it. Let it out._

Sai swallowed.

"I have changed my mind about providing you with shelter."

"What?" Lora gasped. The words sunk in one by one. She rushed forward, placing one hand on the Togruta's shoulder, staring directly into his eyes. "You – you have to understand. I'm being hunted like some kind of animal, for no fault of my own... I have nothing. No food. No water. No shelter. They've locked down the river, and they've been ordered to _shoot me _on sight..."

Sai pulled away from her grip. His eyes, a deep maroon, were slowly turning bloodshot – just like his son. "I can't afford to put my family at risk."

"They're _already_ at risk," Lora blurted out. "They turned on Kherev just as suddenly as they turned on me. They would have _shot him_."

Sai shook his head. "I'm sorry, Master Jedi," he choked out, turning away – unable to look her in the eyes. She didn't fail to notice that he still hadn't called her by name. "My family is in danger. Already, the clone troopers know I pity the plight of the Jedi. They know I surrendered my son to you. And I have Aiya to worry about... and my son, Seth - he's nearly a man, in the prime of his youth. I can't afford to put them in harm's way."

Lora stepped abruptly away from him, eyes wide, and terror brimming there. Her dry throat tightened around her windpipe. "You wouldn't dare hand me over to the troops."

"No. Never," Sai assured her. "You're a friend of our family, an ally of our tribe – but surely, you must understand." He turned to face her, finally meeting her wounded gaze; the pain there stung, but he set his jaw. "I've still brought provisions. Food. Water. But shelter – it's impossible." His voice was raw and pained. "I can't, Lora. I _can't_."

Lora Kii stared at her boots.

"I understand," she said.

Sai moved over to a large rock, reaching behind it to retrieve several packs of supplies. "Take these," he urged, holding them out to the Jedi.

She nodded. She took them. She didn't speak again.

She wouldn't look at him.

Sai swallowed. His stomach roiled. He tried to choke back the words, but they ripped out of his throat before he could restrain them. "I want you to survive," he stammered. "I want everything to be alright. I wish that none of this had ever happened, but I have a responsibility."

He stared into her eyes. There were tears there, just beginning to form – tears that marked the division of a long-enduring friendship.

"You are a friend of my family," Sai went on. "You raised my son into a man that I'm proud of... that _you _should be proud of..."

His voice choked off.

Lora bit her lip. "I know, Sai. I know." She sighed, placing one hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance. "I promise you," she whispered. "I _promise you_... when I get off this planet, I will find your son. I will track down Kherev, and I will ensure that nothing happens to him. I promise you."

Sai nodded. He couldn't think of what to say. He wasn't sure he wanted to say anything. There was a long minute of stabbing silence.

A rustle sounded in the trees.

Sai tightened his fist, white-knuckling his brazen spear. "What was that?" he snapped, leaning into a defensive stance, poised to hurl the weapon. "An Akul?"

Silence.

Another rustle.

"Seth? Aiya?" Sai called.

Lora dropped her supplies to the dirt, drawing her lightsaber hilt from her belt. Her eyes scanned the rainforest. Her heart pounded wildly against her ribcage.

"It's nothing," she breathed. "Just an animal – something tame."

Sai looked at Lora. He looked at the trees. He looked at his arm, raised to throw the spear. He looked at Lora. His eyes circled back to the trees.

He swallowed hard, heart pounding. "Are you sure that –"

He never finished.

Blasterfire exploded from the trees. Plasma shots riddled Sai's chest and throat and legs and arms. He stumbled back, clothes smoking, spear clattering uselessly to the dirt, and then he fell.

"_No_!" Lora screamed. She seized her lightsaber, and it ignited in a flare of verdant green. She ran to the fallen Togruta, hoping he was still gasping, clutching life, not dead yet, not dead yet...

But he was.

He was dead.

Her closest friend in the entire system was dead.

She'd sworn to be his ally. To protect his family. To protect Kherev, and _he _was in an entirely different _system_ –

More blasterfire charged out of the trees. Numberless clones sprinted out of the foliage, their weapons trained on the Jedi Master – a pack of tracking squads, sent to find her, no doubt. Civilian casualties were irrelevant.

Lora Kii raised her lightsaber, deflecting the next wave of attack. Another rustle sounded at the peak of the rocky hill behind her.

No, not a rustle – footsteps.

Seth came charging down from the cliff, eyes wide. He must have heard the commotion from where he was hunting with Aiya, and now...

"Seth! Get out of here!" Lora ordered.

Too late. He was working his way into the heat of things.

"Father!" Seth burst out, crazed with panic and rage. "_Father_!" He ducked under a round of blasterfire, tightening his hold on his own ashen spear as he dropped to a crouch at the base of the hill behind him.

Then he saw it.

His father. Sai Ra'shah. Dead.

_Dead_.

Lora spun, blocking another round of enemy shots. "Seth, _go_!" she yelled, more forcefully than before.

Seth shouted, "Jedi traitor! You killed my father!"

Before the Jedi could reply, Seth charged at her from behind, hacking wildly with the spear. Lora parried the first several swings before catching one with her lightsaber, diverting the blow so that Seth stumbled back several paces.

The clone troopers fired another wave of shots. Lora Kii moved with an elegant simplicity, her ice-blue blade slashing left, now right; now she spun and slashed down in a diagonal arc that sent a starburst of plasma hurtling back towards the soldier that had fired it.

Seth staggered back from the skirmish, his heart beating heavily against his ribcage. He stared off at his father's corpse, the dead hands pressed uselessly to his chest, the dead eyes wide, forever glazed with denial and shame.

"I didn't kill him!" Lora Kii's voice was firm, even over the cacophony of the blasterfire. "The _troops_ shot him, not me." She ducked, somersaulting under a torpedo that narrowly missed her head, colliding instead with a tree that immediately went up in blinding orange flames. "You have to run, Seth," the Jedi panted, deflecting still more incoming shots. "Take your mother and flee, quickly! There isn't much time!"

"You could have _saved_ him!" Seth cried, his voice rising. The harsh light of foliage ablaze gleamed on his sweaty red skin. "You were our friend! You let him _die_, Jedi traitor!"

The Jedi Master pleaded with him. "Seth, _listen to me_ –"

She reasoned in vain.

With a bestial howl, the Togruta threw himself back into the fray, his eyes fiery and bloodshot. He swung the spear at Lora's head, but she ducked beneath the blow; again he struck, and again, and again. The Jedi whirled, her sword a blur of blue fire, cleaving towards the spear's shaft, but not through – the weapon was fashioned like a vibroblade, and though it hissed and sent wisps of noxious smoke curling from it, it did not disintegrate.

His heart racing as his weapon was forced back towards his face, Seth snapped desperately away, attempting an overhand chop that would drive the spearhead through his opponent's skull.

But the Jedi Master was no fool.

A shockwave of Force energy crushed Seth's ribs against his lungs, and he hurtled back without a cry, tumbling over and over in the dirt until he finally rolled into a tree trunk, all of the air crushed from him. But he still held the spear.

"Stand down, Seth!" the Jedi called over her shoulder, simultaneously parrying a fresh round of blasterfire. An intricate series of blinding ricochets followed – plasma bolts driving back into the clones that had fired them, reflecting off of their armor, now hitting the trees, now searing the grass, now narrowly missing the Jedi's frayed, sweat-soaked robe as she leapt forward, her blade cleanly cleaving through soldier after soldier.

Another torpedo – another tree exploded like a massive torch, igniting with red-hot flames that danced violently up and down its blackened trunk. Seth threw himself into a desperate somersault that carried him just out of range of the resulting shower of embers. He landed in a crouch.

"Forgive me, Seth!" Lora coughed as she swept a charging clone into a takedown, stabbing him through the heart. "I never wanted things to end this way," she added, bitter regret lacing the words. "You have to run. There's no time!"

Seth gasped for air. Sickly smoke from the trees ablaze curled down his throat. His vision swam. He stared detachedly aside, panting, staring blindly and uncomprehendingly at the body of his fallen father – Sai's hand-woven cloak riddled with blasterfire, one scarlet hand still wedged between his chest and the ground, as if to draw the final blow of death out of his heart.

Seth cried out – the tortured, devastated cry of an orphaned son. He scrambled to his feet, still rasping, one arm leaning against the rough bark of a spark-seared tree trunk, the other white-knuckling the shaft of his spear.

"_Run_, Seth!" Lora warned, her half-scream nearly eclipsed by the growling collisions of saber and blaster. "Run _now_!"

Seth breathed hard. Baring his teeth, the yellowed fangs revealing abrupt ferocity, he drew back his arm – a hunter's arm, lean and strong, pulled back like an arrow in a bow.

"This," Seth snarled, "is for my father's blood!"

And with a feral shout, he hurled his brazen spear at the woman who may as well have been his father's slayer.

The boy's aim was sure and true, the weapon's craft unrivaled, and the target preoccupied and unsuspecting. Lora Kii only had time to hear the sharp rush of wind as the projectile launched through the air. She tried to whip around, her head half-turned, her feet already shifting her balance into a defensive stance, her saber extended to deflect any attack –

Half a second too slow.

The spearhead went in between her right shoulder-blade and her lower back. It exited through her lower chest, the bloodied point glimmering in the sun as it emerged from the opposite side from whence it had entered.

Lora stared at it.

Her eyes widened. Her mouth fell open of its own accord, but no sound yet emerged. Her fingers loosened their hold on the hilt of her weapon, and the lightsaber slipped from her grasp, landing with a dull buzz in the dirt.

Then –

The _pain _hit.

Lora Kii crumpled to the ground with a strangled shriek, a veil of red falling over her vision. She landed face-first, screaming in staggering agony, her hands clawing blindly at the dust and dirt. She tried to stand, her hands pressing against the earth in a weak attempt to hoist her back to her feet, but she instantly regretted it – the spear's weight dragged her down with a jerk that surpassed the worst anguish, and she cried out again. Her quivering arms collapsed entirely, and her face dropped sharply into the blood-soaked dirt.

Pain suffocated the world.

Lora's chest heaved violently, blood gushing from her mouth, choking the ragged gasps and screams that dragged like razor blades up her throat. She stretched out one hand, a silent plea for help, but all she could do was scream and gasp and scream, half-strangled by the spear in her chest, boundless agony making her vision toss and turn...

Overhead, Seth was shouting through her shrieks. "Cursed Jedi! Cursed Jedi!"

A kick to her side – the bare foot of the Togruta, jabbing into her torn, raw flesh –

She yelled again, a coherent shout of desperation pushing out between the screams. "No, _please_ –!"

Another kick.

The spearhead drove in further. "_Cursed _Jedi!"

Limitless pain.

Another sharp kick.

A wet spray of hot blood.

Lora couldn't breathe. "_Please _–!"

– and then a clone was there, repeating blaster raised to fire. The rotating barrel revved and launched.

"_Cursed_ Jedi!"

Red-hot plasma burned through Seth's neck, and he doubled over backwards – gurgled and moaned. He landed several yards off to the side of his dead father.

A moment of clarity, and with the last of his strength, Seth reached for Sai – but in vain. His head sunk. His eyes rolled blindly back into his skull. The cold darkness of death's shadowy embrace swirled about him, and he leaned his head against his father's cold chest.

Seth Ra'shah fell into nothing and into no one.

Lora Kii had stopped screaming. She had no strength for screaming, nor could she bear to struggle any longer. She gasped for air, a tiny trickle of oxygen reaching her lungs. She looked up as much as she dared – and nearly died right there and then, seized with sudden panic at what she saw.

On the high point of the rugged, stony hill, Aiya Ra'shah was returning for her husband.

Lora opened her mouth to speak, but blood alone gushed from her mute lips. She coughed up scarlet, bitterly rusty and metallic, searing her throat. She choked.

At last, words formed – a faint, trembling whisper on her tongue. "Run... _run_..."

The clones trained their guns on the Togruta woman.

Lora coughed. "_Run_..."

Finally, nearing the edge of the hill, Aiya caught sight of the soldiers in wait, gathered below. Eyes wide with horror, she turned to flee –

Half a second too slow.

Blasterfire cut Aiya Ra'shah down like she was a Kath hound.

Lora Kii hung her head. She closed her eyes. Unshed tears stung inside the darkness, the pain in her chest and back rising and peaking, unbearable waves and stabs of rolling pain. Even with her eyes closed, she could hear the final gasps of the last person she had sworn to protect.

Was this what the galaxy has come to?

_Betrayal..._

Lora Kii gasped through the shattering anguish. Warm, sticky blood streamed from her wounds, staining her Jedi robe a dark crimson.

And then the clones were swarming about her, their voices a hurricane of information. The Jedi Master's glazed eyes shot open with a start, blurred though her vision was.

The clones kept shouting.

"It's not a lethal wound –"

"She's losing too much blood –"

"Medic! Quickly!"

A trooper injected a needle into the Jedi's arm, stinging.

Lora gasped a weak intake of breath. Blood flowed relentlessly from her mouth and chest, a river of crimson.

The clones were still talking, their voices distant now. Fading.

"Extract the spear –"

"Be careful –"

"Lord Vader wants her alive!"

_Vader...? _

This was the last, incoherent shadow of a thought to drift through the mind of Lora Kii.

_Who is Vader...?_

Then darkness became a cloak around her, and she surrendered to the sedative that the clones had injected into her arm.

**...**

**A/N: **I've temporarily changed pace with this story. I told you I'd be bringing Master Lora Kii back! I'll be launching back into the action on Ryisyyyk in the next chapter, but this brief interim really expands the scope of the plot, I think.

Please review!

Oh, and Master Jessie – please know that you made my day with your feedback on last chapter. It's always good to know that you haven't stopped reading!

Also, something recently dawned on me; April will mark a whole year since I published Chapter I and the Prologue of this FanFic. I can't believe it! It's been that long... and this many chapters... and some people are still following it...

So, thanks. Seriously. _Thanks_! A million times!

May the Force be with you!


	40. Chapter IXL: Endgame

_**Chapter IXL: Endgame**_

__They needed to submerge him several times (and had to be careful not to inadvertently drown him,) but eventually, Thirty-nine came to, coughing and sputtering, blinking water and sweat out of his eyes.

"He's awake!" Julia yelled.

The clone tried to sit up, but his vision reeled, and he fell back into Julia's arms, gasping. His _bones _hurt, like someone had been pounding on his skeleton while he was out. Breathing heavily, he shivered in the thin, crisp, mountain air.

"Careful," Julia said. "You took quite the fall back there."

"You can credit the dragon for that," Thirty-nine moaned. He reached up with one hand to check the lacerations on his neck, but winced when his fingers met the wound. The ripped flesh screamed with pain. When he pulled back, teeth gritted, his gauntlet glistened red with fresh, warm blood. "Ow..." he mumbled.

Aaron laughed. "At least you're alive, thank the Force. We were starting to think you might never wake up."

"I'm alive, alright." The clone shrugged. "Woohoo," he said with mock enthusiasm. "Medpac, anyone? The dragon kind of tried to eat my face."

Kherev tossed him a medpac that he'd grabbed from a dead soldier back at the last fight. "Catch."

Julia caught it for him, passing it into his hand.

Thirty-nine activated the medpac. "Thanks," he said. "So, do I have any broken bones, or did that lightning strike just fry my brain?"

"Neither," Aaron said. "That armor of yours is incredible. And you landed at a decent angle. Otherwise, you might have broken your spine."

The clone smiled wryly. "Fun."

"Thirty-nine," Julia asked, "can you stand?"

The clone stared at her. "You're kidding me, right?"

"What's wrong?" Kherev interjected.

"Let me think. Everything hurts, the world is spinning, and –" The clone put one hand to his head. "Whoa. Now _that _is a headache…"

"That's not good," Aaron said. "Sounds like you might have a concussion, not that I'm surprised. You hit your head awfully hard."

"I did?"

Julia gulped. "What do you remember, Thirty-nine?"

"Dragon. Lightning." He shrugged. "Oh, and almost having my face ripped off. That's about it."

"You fell," Aaron explained. "You smashed your head on the edge of the cliff."

__Thirty-nine groaned. "Well, _that _explains a lot."

"Are you nauseous?" Kherev pressed. "Confused?"

"No, just dizzy. Dang it, everyone just stop firing questions at me…" The clone gritted his teeth. "Gah, my _head_…"

__"A concussion for sure," Aaron realized.

Thirty-nine swore under his breath. "Would someone help me up, already?"

"Sure," Julia offered. She pulled one of his arms over her shoulder, hoisting him to his feet. "Can you walk by yourself?"

"Yes," the clone insisted.

He-nine took a tentative step. Another step.

He could walk alright, but his head whirled like someone was stirring his brain. His head felt like someone had spent the day maniacally beating the inside of his skull with a sledgehammer. He couldn't see straight.

Thirty-nine looked to his allies for reassurance, maybe subconsciously hoping they'd say something like _don't worry, you'll recover in a minute _or _just sleep for an hour, you'll be fine when you wake up _or even _suck it up, soldier; you'll be okay, _but their expressions were noticeably serious. Not to mention, there appeared to be at least six Jedi instead of three, his vision was so screwed up. And the last thing that the clone wanted to see was multiple Kherevs, all watching him with disdain.

The Togruta looked almost insulted, like Thirty-nine's injuries were somehow a personal affront. It wasn't like the soldier could blame him, though. Having the group's only distance fighter out of action wouldn't bode well for anyone's survival.

"Are you sure you can walk alright?" Aaron asked.

"Sort of. I'm just really dizzy," the clone said. "Hero. _Pfft. _I almost got myself killed." He made his way back beside the river and sat down, one hand on his head. He felt so totally useless, and he hated it. "Give me my blaster, at least," he sighed. "We might have to face another ambush, and I'm not just going to sit here and complain while you all get killed.

"Not you," Julia insisted. "We'll fight. You stay where you are. Recover."

"So there _is _going to be another fight," the clone said.

Aaron nodded. "How close, Kherev?"

The Jedi Knight closed his eyes, focusing on the vibrations of sound in his montrals. "We have ten minutes, at best."

"Great," Thirty-nine muttered. "More troops on the way, and I'm incapacitated."

"We'll be fine. We can take them," Aaron encouraged, but he sounded unsure, even to himself. "We have to."

"I'll cover Thirty-nine," Julia said. "You and Kherev can take the offensive."

"No problem," Kherev agreed, grinning.

Aaron nodded his assent. "Just don't try any more of that Sith crap, okay?"

Kherev turned on the Padawan with his predatory fangs half-bared. "_What_?"

"What you pulled last fight," Aaron said. "No threatening defeated soldiers, got it? And at least kill them fast."

"They tried to _shoot me_!" Kherev argued.

"I wonder why."

"Because I'm a Jedi, dang it!"

Aaron crossed his arms. "Maybe it's because you threatened them with a slow and violent death!"

"For crying out loud, Aaron," Kherev shouted. "You talk about nothing but bringing justice, and now you accuse _me _of being harsh?"

"That wasn't justice. It was revenge," Aaron countered. He silently cursed himself for how much he was starting to sound like Rach'ta Zian, but it was the truth. Kherev's actions had been dead wrong, however they were going to look at it. "Revenge leads to the Dark Side," Aaron went on. "It's not the Jedi way."

"And you're big on following the Jedi Code, aren't you?" the Togruta scoffed.

"What's your problem, Kherev?"

The Jedi Knight laughed. "In case you haven't noticed, the Code also forbids attachment. Specifically, romantic relationships."

Concussion or not, Thirty-nine burst out laughing.

Aaron's face felt hot. "Your point?"

"I've seen the way you look at each other!" Kherev burst out. "Every time Julia's injured, you turn white as a ghost. I can tell how you feel. I'm not stupid. And if you're so concerned about the Jedi way, maybe you and your _girlfriend_ –"

Julia blushed bright red. "I am _not _his girlfriend," she snapped, a little more harshly than she'd intended.

Aaron swallowed hard. "I, uh – well…"

"_Aaron_!" Julia shrieked, her face burning.

Thirty-nine laughed louder, almost doubling over. "Oh, man…"

"You're lucky to be alive," Aaron snapped, glowering at him. "Would you _shut up_?"

"Quiet!" Kherev yelled. He raised a hand for silence. "They're close. Get ready for a fight."

Julia sighed. She shot a rueful look at Aaron that might have been anything between _for crying out loud, stop embarrassing me _or _I'm sorry, I didn't really mean it, _but truthfully, he had no idea what it was supposed to mean, and she looked away quickly.

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but his mouth felt like it was full of sand.

Julia absently fingered her lightsaber. She looked up at him briefly, like she wanted to say something, but then she stared at her boots, biting her lip. "Just draw the blasterfire away from Thirty-nine."

The clone nodded. "Can't I at least have my blaster?"

"You can't even see straight, let alone shoot straight," Kherev insisted.

Aaron shrugged. "But… just in case." He tossed the clone his weapon, along with his supply pack and helmet. "Don't shoot unless you have to. If all else fails, try not to die."

"Gee, thanks," Thirty-nine mumbled. "Wisdom from the Jedi Master."

Kherev lifted the hilt of his saberstaff. "Get ready. They're closing in."

"Try to stay focused, alright?" Aaron blurted out.

The Jedi Knight rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Lover Boy," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that," Aaron growled.

"_Not _his girlfriend," Julia said again, but she could feel a smile tugging at her lips. _I am such an idiot! _She shook her head, silently cursing herself. "I am _not _his girlfriend."

"Sure, sure," Kherev laughed. "Whatever. I don't really care if you're kindred spirits." He turned to Aaron. "Just follow your own advice – try not to die."

…

** A/N: **Hey, guys. Yeah, I know, I changed my pen name – but it's still me! Just call me Shadows for short.

I apologize for the brevity of this chapter, (it's like "Fallen Star" and "The Mountains Rise" all over again, I know,) but I just really wanted to publish an update so you guys knew I was still alive out here. I've been writing a flood of Percy Jackson and the Olympians fics after getting obsessed with the series, so I've been detoured from working on this – but coming back to Why I Breathe literally felt like returning to an old friend. The characters started arguing like usual, and I was like, _Huh. Maybe I can actually try and update this thing._

So, here you have it. I know, it's just dialogue, but next will be some serious action, so don't give up on me. I tried to keep this chapter interesting with some humor and sarcasm, but there's a fine line between humor and annoying-ness, so hopefully I've handled this dialogue well.

I'm trying to keep this thing realistic, so I actually looked up the medical causes/symptoms/treatment of a concussion, which (with any luck) will make Thirty-nine's injury and recovery that much more believable. Giving him a concussion wasn't actually my original plan, but I was like, _Wait. I'm going to electrocute him, bounce him off of his head, and then have him pass out… and he's going to wake up like "hey guys, yeah, my bones hurt but I'm good"? _It just wouldn't have worked. So, yeah. A concussion. Blame the characters – they've stolen the plot from me. It's ridiculous.

Oh, the irony. I finally reach chapter thirty-nine, and our little clone friend gets to celebrate by getting a concussion. I am a cruel author.

Anyway…

Thank you again to all of you awesome reviewers. I love you guys! (:

Please review what you think of this chapter, and do stick with me for the upcoming battle scene. I'll try to make it worth the wait!

May the Force be with you.

_** ~ Shadows**_


	41. Chapter XL: Kii in Captivity

**_Chapter XL: Kii in Captivity_**

Master Lora Kii awoke to the sensation of cold, metal chains against her wrists.

She shivered. The air was still and cold. Her eyelids fluttered drowsily, trying to shut out the harsh white light that glared down from the ceiling. Muted clicks and beeps hummed at the edge of her consciousness, coming from somewhere nearby.

Slowly, through the fog of medicine and painkillers that they'd been pumping through her veins, the Jedi came to herself.

She was in a small, sterile white room, lying on a metal table, bound with chains at her ankles and wrists. Some sort of medical monitor was situated several feet away – apparently keeping track of her heart rate and blood levels, among other things – and a tube with a needle on the end connected her left wrist to the machine.

Lora tried to sit up, only to cry out when jagged flashes of pain ripped across her chest. "_Ah –_"

A clone on the side of the room turned at the sound, hurrying to her side. _"Shh..."_ he whispered as he stiffly eased the Jedi down, taking care to avoid banging her head on the edge of the table. "Don't try to get up yet. You lost a lot of blood."

Lora gasped as the memories came flooding back. Sai riddled with blasterfire. Seth's eyes rolled back into his skull. Aiya's fading cry. The _spear..._

Master Kii blinked the flashbacks away.

"Where am I?" she managed, but her throat felt tight.

"You're in the medical wing of a holding facility on Geonosis," the clone said.

"I was unaware of Geonosis having anything of the sort."

The clone laughed. "The Jedi are unaware of a lot of things. You're lucky to be alive."

The Jedi Master swallowed hard. "What do the Separatists want from me?"

The clone looked at her like she was an alien species. "This is not a Separatist holding facility."

"What?" Lora's head reeled. "Then what are you –"

"Order sixty-six was issued. The Jedi should be dead – but you're lucky. Lord Vader still has some use for you."

Lora struggled to keep her voice even. "This is a Sith establishment, then?"

"No," the clone said. "This facility is under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Empire."

Lora couldn't breathe. "Galactic... Empire?"

The Republic was dead. The Jedi were being hunted like wild beasts. And now, there was an empire?

A galactic _empire__ –_

"That's impossible," Lora stated, but her voice shook.

"You've been on Shili for too long," the soldier snapped. "You are now a subject to the Empire – and a prisoner, I might add."

Before Lora could reply – not that words would do any good, no words could possibly explain how this felt, how surreal and terrible this all was – a door in the wall slid open with a hiss, revealing another clone trooper.

"Commander Coast, sir," he stammered. "Has the Jedi recovered?"

The clone beside Lora nodded affirmatively. "Yes, Rod. She's awake. You may inform Lord Vader, immediately. He'll be pleased to know she survived."

Rod nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, and then he vanished down the hallway.

_Vader..._

That was the name they'd said after Seth attacked her, Lora was sure of it. The last thing she'd heard before passing out.

Lora turned to the soldier called Commander Coast. "Sir, who is Lord Vader?"

"The Emperor's most important servant," Coast said. "You'll see. You might know him."

She'd never heard of Vader in her life, not even in passing.

"How would I know him?"

"I'm sure you've heard of him," the clone said, "just by a different name."

Something hovered at the back of Lora's mind, like a shadow of a premonition. "And what was his other name?" she asked, but she couldn't keep her voice from trembling.

"They used to call him Anakin Skywalker."

…

** A/N: **Just had to put this little snippet here. Almost like a teaser for what I'm going to do with the Lora Kii subplot. And yes, it has happened: there will be a full-blown cameo appearance from Darth Vader, just like I did with the Emperor in Chapter VIII: The Black Blade.

Thanks a million to Master Jessie for sticking with me, and to the new reviewer (I can't remember your pen name off the top of my head, forgive me! I'm typing this on my Word processor.)

May the Force be with you!

**~ Shadows**


	42. Chapter XLI: Showdown on the Cliffs

_**Chapter XLI: Showdown on the Cliffs  
><strong>_

The next wave of clones was rather matter-of-fact about their intentions.

Again, it was three squads: General Raze's heavily armed _Wolf Squad _from Christophsis, Lieutenant Stride's offshoot _Amazon Squad _from Kashyyyk, and Commander Gears' tech-savvy _Storm Squad _from Teth. They sauntered towards the Jedi as a unit, their weapons lowering into attack position.

There were several standard issue DC-15_A_ blaster rifles and DC-17 pistols, but also an assortment of other weapons. Each commander had his own unique defense. Raze carried a bulky repeating blaster, Stride had a curved vibroblade sheathed on his right and a custom stealth pistol on his left, and Gears had one of the most complicated blasters ever to find its way into the hands of a clone – a complex, tricked-out weapon with everything from a night vision scope to a self-destruct switch.

Clearly, Gears shared Thirty-nine's natural affinity for technology, but greatly amplified. His division had added multiple modifications to their guns, while Stride's carried all manner of wicked swords, knives, and even poisoned daggers, along with assorted pistols. Raze's men boasted an impressive set of destructive frag grenades, but the clones were reluctant to use explosives on this terrain, for fear that they might cause an avalanche or a collapse of the mountain.

Slowly, Julia drew her lightsaber. She turned to lock gazes with Thirty-nine, and he nodded. He motioned to her, drawing one hand across his throat as if to say, _Don't die._

The Padawan smiled wryly. Then she turned to face the enemy ranks, her sky-blue lightsaber hissing dangerously.

Aaron raised his own blade to shoulder-level, leaning into a crouch, prepared to lunge.

Kherev twirled his golden saberstaff in warning, teeth bared like a hunter. His eyes were blood-red, narrowed, locked on the enemy as if to say, _Do you really want to meet the last squad I slaughtered?_

The clone troopers stood silently on the cliff, poised to attack. The air shivered with tension.

General Raze nodded to his allies – and was it Julia's imagination, or did he signal to Gears? There was no time to tell; it all happened too quickly.

General Raze faced the Jedi and ordered, "Open fire!"

From that point forward, it felt a lot like the last time.

Aaron launched himself headlong towards _Amazon Squad_'s left flank, lightsaber blazing, slashing through soldier after soldier – Nyl, Frame, and Raid all collapsing in his charge – a blast of the Force sent four more sprawling, and one tumbled over the mountain's edge with a final scream before falling to his death.

Julia hung back, moving up just enough to take down anyone who got too close to Thirty-nine – and she was a whirlwind: disarming soldiers, stabbing countless men through the chest and heart, all the while using well-timed shockwaves of the Force to push the attackers back while she deflected their blasterfire.

Troopers dying, weapons crashing uselessly to the cold stone, heat and blood and sweat, pained gasps, curses, howls of pain, explosions of gunfire –

And then it dawned on the Padawans that Kherev wasn't fighting.

Suddenly, Aaron noticed the tiny, circular device that Commander Gears held in his palm, and it all made sense.

Kherev was on his hands and knees right where he'd started the fight. He hadn't even moved in for the kill. His saberstaff had rolled uselessly across the cliff, landing several feet away. His eyes were an anguished, vivid red, bulging with pain. His head jerked.

What was it that the last assault team had said?

_A supersonic transmitter..._

Kherev's sensitive montrals stung with agony, but he couldn't even remember how to scream. There was nothing but the noise. Grating. Screeching. Clawing at his head from the inside, scraping at his skull, like a grenade had gone off inside of his head. His jaw was locked, his teeth gritted as he choked on a shriek.

Julia must have realized it at the same moment, because she shouted, "Aaron! Help him!" She spun, deflecting a wave of blasterfire back at the clones.

"Hang on!" Aaron yelled.

The Padawan roared into the heart of _Amazon Squad_, but a flurry of swords stopped his charge. He drew up short, raising his blade to block an overhead chop from a vibroblade. He twisted, snapping his wrist down and to the side; the sword clattered ineffectually to the ground, and its wielder lost his arm at the shoulder, followed by his head. Another camouflage-wearing jungle trooper swooped in from behind, thrusting a poisoned dagger at Aaron's throat, but the Jedi ducked and spun into a kick that nailed the clone directly in the gut.

Suddenly, there was a horrible screech overhead: a predator's battle cry.

Julia lifted her eyes to the sky. "No," she breathed. "Living Force – not again..."

Teeth bared and glistening, a massive dragon dove from the clouds, seizing two of the Teth troopers in its claws and hurling them over the side of the cliff. Its wide black pupils glittered, and its sulfur-yellow irises flickered irritably.

_The transmitter,_ Aaron realized. The dragon could hear it. Apparently, it didn't like the frequency very much.

The dragon landed solidly in the middle of Wolf Squad, promptly proceeding to devour General Raze's head in one huge, bloody bite. Hot crimson splattered on the stone, as well as on the nearby soldiers.

That was just the distraction Aaron needed to reach Gears.

Aaron Earthshaker plunged forward, smashing troopers aside, his heart pounding heavily. He crashed through the ranks. His blade dispatched countless soldiers as he ripped through, saber snarling and crackling with energy.

Gears drew a pistol from its holster with his free hand. He fired twice. _Crack. Crack._ Aaron deflected the fire effortlessly, the rounds curling off of his sword as wisps of grey steam. He bore down on Gears, eyes afire.

The Commander did the only thing he could. "_Stride_!" he shouted, and he lobbed the transmitter over Aaron's head.

Big mistake.

Aaron opened his palm, drawing on the Force... and the transmitter flew to his hand.

_Click._

The transmitter blinked and deactivated.

Kherev gasped as he came to himself. Why he hadn't been shot already, his allies had no idea, but he rose shakily to one knee.

Julia's face lit up. "Nice one, Aaron!"

Aaron grinned. "All in a day's work."

Then Lieutenant Stride came sprinting from nowhere, swearing with rage. The next thing Aaron knew, a vibroblade slashed across his right arm.

The Jedi gave a cry. _That was my sword arm, dang it!_ Blood spurted from his wound. Then, enraged, he wheeled around, cleanly decapitating Lieutenant Stride.

"Aaron!" Julia called over the din of the blasterfire. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Teeth gritted, Aaron rubbed his injured arm, and his fingers turned red. He shrugged, but the motion stung. "I – I'll be fine, okay?" he choked out, cutting down another clone.

Across the mountain, Kherev was on his feet now, and with an iron-visage. His expression said one thing: _I am capable of more than you know. You will not shame me here on this battlefield._

_And there will be blood._

There was a primeval growl from somewhere in the fray. The dragon – dead. The clones had finally managed to finish it off by focusing their fire on its vulnerable underbelly. The beast collapsed, its eyes rolling back into its scaly skull. But at least half of _Wolf Squad_ had died fighting it.

Julia breathed hard. They might survive this, after all. Maybe. She glanced across the battlefield, checking on her allies.

Aaron was caught between a trio of blade-wielding camouflage troopers that wanted their transmitter back. He was holding his own, but his breathing was jagged. His arm wound burned with blood and sweat as he traded blows with the swordsmen. The clang of their blades and the _snap-hiss _of the Jedi's lightsaber echoed across the sky.

At the same time, one of the _Wolf Squad_ survivors locked on Kherev and charged him head-on, gun raised.

The Togruta called his saberstaff back to his hand, finishing the clone off with a flourish. Yellow sparks scattered as he impaled the soldier through the neck, right where his helmet met his chest armor.

"Kherev!" Julia yelled. Her forehead shone with sweat, and her breathing was ragged. Gasping, she gestured to Thirty-nine as she blocked more incoming fire. "Help me cover him!"

Kherev nodded. Without hesitation, he back-flipped toward Julia and Thirty-nine.

That was when two things went critically wrong.

One: Aaron took another slash, this one grazing his back, and he staggered just enough that he dropped the supersonic transmitter as he caught his fall.

Two: one of the swordsmen dove for the transmitter, and he succeeded.

_Click._

The transmitter glowed, signaling that it was active.

That was when Kherev realized _his own_ mistake: he'd overshot the back-flip ever so slightly, and he was going to land in the river behind Thirty-nine.

Everything went wrong at once.

Kherev Ra'shah twisted in midair, his back arching with pain, his eyes going wide. His hearing all but went numb. He nearly blacked out from the force of the transmitter's frequency. His saberstaff slipped from his grip, its momentum carrying it over the mountain's edge, where it plummeted into empty space.

Kherev's sense of direction was gone. Disoriented and agonized, he tumbled uncertainly through the air, ultimately crashing into the river.

White water splattered Thirty-nine as the Togruta landed. Seeing the danger, the clone reached to help him – but it was too late. Kherev writhed in the current, twisting in pain as he was rapidly drawn towards the raging waterfall at the cliff's edge. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

Then Kherev Ra'shah plummeted over the edge of the mountain, all the weight of the waterfall crashing over him. His answering shout of pain was swallowed by the liquid as he plunged towards the wild, rushing river below.

…

**A/N: I'm back! Thank you so much for the review, guys. Yes, I'm talking to you – Freelancer Seal, Master Jessie, Matt – your reviews have been totally awesome, so thanks a million. And also, Era – yes, you, the one who subscribed and PMed me but didn't actually review – thank you so much for letting me know that you liked the story, and I hope the new updates won't disappoint you.**

**This chapter is actually a decent length, finally. A little over three pages, which isn't so bad. Especially considering that I wrote this in one afternoon.**

**So, how do you feel about this chapter? Did you remember that the other squads also had a transmitter, as was mentioned by the last group of clones, or did I catch you by surprise? Do you think Kherev will survive? What about Aaron, Julia, and Thirty-nine?**

**Again, thanks a million. **

**Please review! And may the Force be with you.**

**~ Shadows**


	43. Chapter XLII: Torn Asunder

_**Chapter XLII: Torn Asunder**_

The last thing that Kherev Ra'shah thought as he plummeted towards the frothing water was some obscure fact he'd learned in a training Holocron as a Youngling: a snippet about how hitting water after a significant fall would feel like landing on durasteel.

The wind rushed past and the cliff face dropped away, everything moving on fast-forward, and he was flailing his limbs and scrambling for a handhold and choking, choking horribly in the crash of the waterfall that only speeded his descent. He imagined, for a split second, how it would feel to splinter apart. He considered how it would feel to have his spirit wing away, torn free of its shattered body, now drawn into the infinite wonder of the living Force, at last becoming one with the boundless breadth of eternity.

Then he remembered that he was a Jedi, and he thought, _Thanks, but I'm not ready to die today._

Somewhere amidst the roaring water, the stinging pain, the ringing sensation that reverberated inside of his skull, Kherev recovered enough strength to draw on the Force. Energy gathered in a whirlwind. The waterfall around him seemed to almost curve away, deflected by an invisible barrier.

All this happened in a span of mere seconds, and then Kherev Ra'shah collided with the river.

Kherev coughed and sputtered as he crashed into the surging waters, but he did not break apart. The Force caught his fall, lessening the impact, pushing back the waters just enough to preserve his life. Even so, the jolt felt like every bone in Kherev's body seized up at once. He coughed convulsively in the liquid. There was no oxygen here. The supersonic transmitter couldn't harm him underwater, but his montrals were still screaming with pain that hadn't stopped, and he couldn't see straight. His lungs strained for air, but no air came. Water forced its way down his throat, and his whole chest tightened into a knot, trying to push the liquid out.

Bubbles swirled in the river's relentless current. The Togruta's silent shriek made no sound, swallowed whole as it was by the dark water.

It was then that Kherev Ra'shah thought, _So this is… this is how it feels… to die._

No, not death, he couldn't _die… _he was a Jedi Knight, he was a… a defender of justice… a guardian of peace. He couldn't just… _die…_

Overhead, on the mountain summit, Thirty-nine gave a yell. "He hit the river!"

Breathing hard, Aaron called across the battlefield, "Is he coming back up?"

"No!" Thirty-nine gasped. "Help him! I can't fight, I can't even see straight…"

Julia deflected a fresh round of blasterfire back at the _Wolf Squad _survivors. "We can't just let him _drown_!"

"Do you have a better idea?" the clone retorted. "Last I checked, cliff-diving wasn't exactly a recreational activity!"

"I'll help him," Aaron panted, still dueling the trio of swordsmen. He spun into a savage kick that nailed one clone in the neck. In the same movement, he successfully beheaded a second with his lightsaber in a flash of deep blue light. The third soldier lunged with his vibroblade, but the strike's timing was off. Aaron raised one hand, drawing on the Force, and hurled his opponent into the other surviving clone so hard, they both fell dead on contact.

Aaron flashed a stern look at Julia. "Keep Thirty-nine covered. I'm going after Kherev."

"You're doing what?" Thirty-nine muttered.

Aaron Earthshaker was already sprinting, his eyes locked on the river below. He deactivated his lightsaber, returning it to his belt. He ran faster.

Julia's eyes brimmed with panic. "Aaron, you can't –"

Aaron picked up speed, his visage set like flint as he pushed off the edge of the mountain, diving into open air with outstretched arms.

"I was _joking _about the cliff-diving!" Thirty-nine shouted. "Are you insane?"

Aaron Earthshaker did not hear him. Already, he was falling into nothing. The Padawan held his breath. He plummeted like a stone, the Force directing his descent so that he crashed directly into the raging river.

A spray of white water shot several feet up into the air, and then the Padawan was gone from his allies' view.

Kherev never saw his rescuer break the water. The Togruta was already unconscious, the current carrying his body further downstream. But Aaron, thankfully, caught sight of his ally. He swam forwards, cutting through the water. At long last, he caught hold of the Jedi Knight's battered form.

Desperate for air, Aaron kicked frantically up. For a span of several seconds, he thought maybe they were both going to die here – two Jedi left in a lonely, underwater grave.

Then Aaron Earthshaker broke the surface.

The Padawan gasped. Air flooded his lungs, and he took it in gratefully. With a great heave, he pulled the Togruta on to the riverbank. Then, slowly, he dragged himself up to dry land. He lay there for a long minute. He shivered, his bare chest all but frozen by the river. His Jedi robe was soaked through, his hair dripping wet with cold water. His blood felt like ice.

Overhead, Julia called, "Aaron! Aaron, are you alright?" She struggled to focus – cutting down clones while listening for the Padawan's reply, hoping against hope that he was alright, that he could just be alright.

"I'm okay," Aaron coughed. He pulled himself further up on the riverbank. "I'm okay."

The sheer relief that enveloped Julia felt staggering. Aaron was okay. Kherev was alive. _We're going to make it, _she thought. _Wolf Squad _was decimated, _Amazon Squad _was shrinking and all but breaking apart, and the survivors from _Storm Squad _couldn't hold out much longer. _We're going to get through this, _Julia thought. _We are._

Then something roared in the skies above, and she didn't even have to look up to know what it was.

"Blast it!" Julia shouted. A _Storm Squad _clone ran at her with a vibroblade, but she dodged and cut him down. "Aaron," she yelled, "did you deactivate the transmitter?"

At the foot of the cliff, Aaron groaned. "Crap."

Julia dashed across the battlefield, slashing through at least five more soldiers. When she reached the transmitter, she sliced it cleanly in two. The broken halves smoked, the wires of the device sparking fitfully.

But it did no good.

A massive dragon swooped down from the clouds, its teeth bared threateningly. It had already heard the transmitter, and it was less than pleased.

That was the last straw for the scattered survivors of the clone squadrons. Upon seeing the dragon, they completely fell apart. The troops scattered. Some were trying to run, but a small remainder was aiming to shoot the beast down.

"Thirty-nine, get ready to dodge if you have to," Julia stammered. "I'll take it down if it lunges for you."

"And you?" the clone yelled.

Julia tightened her grip on her lightsaber. "I can take it if it goes for me!" she insisted. "Get ready!"

But in the predator's eyes, Julia was wielding blue fire, and Thirty-nine had his armor, and the clones were equally well-protected. The only logical target was the fleshy one, the soft one at the foot of the cliff…

The dragon snarled. Then it snapped into a dive, flashing across the sky, teeth and claws prepared to rip its target to shreds –

And its target was Aaron.

There was no time for the Padawan to react. He screamed, moving to draw his lightsaber, but it all happened too fast. Claws seized him by the shoulders, digging into his flesh – the world jerked and tilted, his surrounds blurring as he was born skyward – furious growls hissed around him. The dragon's back claws slashed at him wildly, opening gashes on Aaron's arms, his legs, the side of his jaw, his bare chest.

He would be sliced to ribbons. He would be shredded apart, and then the dragon would eat him alive.

Thirty-nine swore.

"Aaron, _no_!" Julia screamed.

Aaron thrashed in the dragon's clutches, but that only opened more scratches on his arms. Dark splotches of warm blood stained his Jedi robe.

Then, out of nowhere –

That was when the ARC-170 landed.

Even as the dragon continued ripping with its claws, Aaron suddenly remembered the moment when Order sixty-six had been initiated. Commander Krayt and the other clones of his division had pursued their three Jedi targets. Alk Koth had fallen. Rach'ta Zian had escaped, only to strike out on his own. And Aaron, after dealing heavy losses to the enemy troops, had sealed the doorway of the Ryisyykian Republic base with a massive tree.

But Commander Krayt – and some of his soldiers – had survived.

It was some of those soldiers, known officially as _Rider Squad, _who landed now in a battered ARC-170. To be exact, _Rider Squad _landed in an ARC-170 with a broken hyperdrive – Kherev's own ship, which he had abandoned after joining forces with the other Jedi runaways. The Togruta had known that using an ARC-170 on the run would have drawn far too much enemy attention, but he had neglected to disable the ship. Now, in an ironic twist of fate, the ship had fallen into the hands of those who were hunting him.

The ARC-170 landed solidly on the riverbank.

Two soldiers, their armor emblazoned with forest-green stripes, clambered out of the cockpit. Without hesitation, they moved in towards the unconscious Togruta, prepared to load him into the fighter for transport.

Overhead, Aaron was still screaming. He struggled in the dragon's clutches, but the predator only growled with blissful anger, almost as if it were laughing.

Thirty-nine's eyes moved from the sky to the ARC-170, but his head reeled. He couldn't think. He couldn't see straight, he couldn't fight, he couldn't do anything.

And Julia… she couldn't breathe.

How long could she possibly have? Seconds?

If she didn't disable the ARC-170, Kherev would be captured by the clone troopers. He could face torture, imprisonment, interrogation, execution…

And then there was Aaron, held fast by the enraged dragon. If she didn't get to him fast enough, he'd be torn apart and devoured by the predator, eaten alive.

Julia felt like she was being torn in two.

The two _Rider Squad _clones on the ground lifted Kherev's body over their shoulders, dragging him towards the ARC-170. One of them signaled to the survivors on the cliff, and the clones began to withdraw, following the command to retreat and regroup. They drew their ascension cables and began to descend the mountain. Why they were supposed to fall back, Julia had no idea. Maybe they thought the Jedi were as good as dead, anyway. Maybe their numbers were too low for them to risk continuing the offensive. Maybe they just wanted Kherev alive, and the rest was irrelevant – but that didn't make any sense.

In the sky, Aaron was still howling with pain. The dragon roared hideously, the sound echoing through the valley below.

And then Julia was running, she didn't know how or why or where, but she was sprinting across the cliff. Her heartbeat sounded deafening in her own ears. Faster now, faster, she kept running until she reached the mountain's edge. Then she closed her eyes, her breathing ragged, and summoned all her will to bend the Force at her command.

The dragon jerked in the sky.

Julia twisted her wrist, struggling to bring the creature down as it snarled miserably. Energy shuddered through her, power thrilled her nerves and she had it now, her hand was in a fist and she had the monster in her control. Julia gasped, overwhelmed by the power of the Force as it flowed through her veins. All in one moment, she brought her fist straight down.

The dragon's neck snapped, cutting off its final scream. Then it tumbled through the open air, crashing into the river.

Julia opened her eyes, waiting for Aaron to emerge from the water.

On the riverbank, the ARC-170 was fully occupied – two _Rider Squad _clones and their Jedi captive. With a low hiss, the ship began to rise into the air.

Aaron still hadn't resurfaced.

_Too late to change my mind, _Julia thought, and she held her breath and jumped over the side of the cliff.

The Force alone allowed Julia to land solidly in the water. For a moment, white bubbles blinded her, but then she caught sight of Aaron - who was still trapped in the dead dragon's claws. Julia swam forward, fighting the current, and yanked him free. She caught his hand, and together they swam to the surface.

When the two Jedi finally dragged themselves on to the riverbank, the ARC-170 was gone. The few survivors of _Wolf Squad, Amazon Squad, _and _Storm Squad _were vanishing into the distance, having fallen into a full retreat.

"Kherev," Aaron coughed. "He's gone."


	44. Chapter XLIII: Time Reels Blindly On

_**Chapter XLIII: Time Reels Blindly On**_

It's funny, because the name _Anakin Skywalker _used to conjure up imagery of heroics and bravery and the adventures that legends are made of, but when Lora Kii passed out, _they used to call him Anakin Skywalker _reverberating over and over in her head, all she experienced were nightmares – bizarre collages of her worst recollections from before the Jedi Order claimed her.

_Monsters in the sand. _

_Blood. _

_Strangers. _

_She's screaming. _

_She's running and he catches her and she can't run any further and she's so scared, so scared, so scared. _

"_Did you think you could get away, little girl? Now, let's see –"_

When Lora Kii's eyes flew open again, she was on her feet in seconds and she was fumbling for her lightsaber and _it wasn't there._

Then Lora Kii blinked, and her eyes moved slowly over the stark white walls and the stark white floor, and she remembered where she was.

_You're in the medical wing of a holding facility on Geonosis… This facility is under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Empire…_

She'd been moved to another location, obviously. Transferred to a more permanent, private cell, although the only notable difference was the lack of medical equipment and the presence of a single window.

What was she even _doing _here? She should be dead. She should be _dead_.

What was it Commander Coast had said?

_You are now a subject to the Empire, and a prisoner, I might add…_

Prisoner.

That word carried troubling echoes of a past she'd been outrunning for a very long time.

Master Lora Kii had been a prisoner before, many times. A captive of the Sand People. A slave of Saul Kyron. A war prisoner of the Separatist Alliance – twice.

If Lora could have written down one thing that she hated most about her experiences in the Clone Wars, it would have been imprisonment. It just had too many links to darker times of her life. It forced her to stop running and just sit alone in the silence, surrounded by unsettling memories, the same voices of her past playing in endless repetition in her mind.

There was one window, and eventually she went to look – but all she could see through the bars was the endless wasteland of Geonosis' rocky terrain.

She paced the cell, like a caged predator. _Tap, tap, tap _of her bare feet against the floor. She thought about Kherev, but that only made her think of Sai and Aiya and Seth and the _blood_ and the spear and how it went _through _her –

How long had she been in here? Minutes? Hours? Days?

There were voices in the hallway, and in desperation she pressed her ear against the door, straining to catch the sound. Any promise of living beings in here somewhere, any flicker of an indication that she wasn't just going to be left here to waste away to skin and bones…

She caught the voices: identical. Clone troopers.

"They captured her Padawan."

"Ra'shah, Kherev – correct?"

"Yes, sir."

_Kherev? _Lora's head spun. An animal need coursed through her veins. _NO! _They could _not _have him, she wouldn't let them, she would never let them break him like that beast Saul had broken _her_ all those years ago –

Lora struggled to catch the conversation in the hall.

"I don't understand. Why not execute her? It's expensive to keep prisoners alive."

"She won't live long. Lord Vader estimates three days before she dies."

Lora couldn't breathe.

_Three days._

Three days left for her to live, and then they'd interrogate Kherev or torture him or _kill _him…

She struggled to catch the clones' voices through the door of her prison cell.

"She didn't recover from her wounds, I presume?"

"No. She made a full recovery. Lord Vader fully expects to see an, ah… alteration in Ra'shah's alliances."

"He will serve the Empire?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then what of the woman?"

"Ra'shah will need to present proof of his conversion, although he is fully expected to join the Empire. He will kill Master Kii himself."

"Can that truly be expected? Ra'shah is a Jedi, sir."

"No Jedi is immune to reason. He will see the truth of what the Galactic Empire has accomplished, and he will do what must be done."

Master Lora Kii staggered back from the door. She tripped over something – the edge of her bunk (the only furniture in her cell,) thin air, her own feet, _something _– and she hit the floor on her knees and she couldn't think and she couldn't breathe through the silent scream that _this cannot be happening._

Anakin Skywalker was Darth Vader, the Republic was a Galactic Empire, the Jedi Order was dead, Sai was dead, Aiya was dead, Seth was dead, Kherev had been captured, Kherev was going to _kill her –_

_NO!_

This was not happening. This was not happening.

She'd loved him, she'd trained him, she'd drilled into him every second of every day that he was someone of worth, of potential, of destiny –

_He can't kill me._

It was that basic, and that horrible.

_He can't. He can't._

So why did something in the very back of her mind whisper that yes, he could, and _did you think you could get away, little girl?_

Lora threw herself upon the lonely bunk of her cell, and she sobbed – like she really was that little girl all over again, alone on Tatooine, not a friend in the galaxy. Lora _sobbed_, awful choking sobs that wouldn't stop, and she _wept _until she thought she'd never cry again.

Because she had poured her everything into her Padawan, and somehow even after years and years of _there is no emotion _she was terrified.

_There is peace _but her head spun, _there is no ignorance _but nothing made sense, _there is knowledge _but she never knew enough to make it matter, _there is no passion _but she was furious now, she hated the Sand People and Saul and this whole blasted Empire, _there is serenity _but not here, not now, _there is no death _but she was going to die and Kherev was going to die and the Jedi were dead and the Republic was dead, _there is the Force _but what difference did it make when _they were going to die_, for crying out loud?

She sobbed, and she wept, and then she closed her eyes like that could block out the world. Instead, she slept.

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. If that was true, Lora suddenly knew with a paralyzing certainty that death was close. She didn't remember the past. She all but _relived _it.

Others would call them _nightmares. _For a Jedi, they are often visions – or worse, a sign that the Dark Side is gathering thicker than before.

In any case, the dreams of Lora Kii were of things that she had long ago tried to forget…

…

_Seven years old.  
>It was a dream.<br>It was weapons and shouts, blood and sand, and when she woke up in a cold sweat, she could have sworn it was real.  
>But it wasn't. Not yet.<br>Visions come before things happen._

**...**

_Seven years old. And a half, she always reminds them. Seven and a half.  
>They come with weapons.<br>"Shh..." her mother whispers, and the little girl huddles close to the warmth of her parent, hiding herself in the rough, weathered robes of the moisture farmer's wife.  
>Outside, the others are screaming. Men scatter. The ones called Sand People howl inhumanly, waving their gaffi sticks as though they are declaring war.<br>Her eyes stream live, warm tears. "Father..."  
>Her mother's voice quavers, but she whispers, "He'll be fine, sweetie. He'll be fine."<br>"Danyl..."  
>"Father will find your brother. Don't be afraid."<br>Outside, her father's voice calls out above the din of the fight. "Danyl... Danyl!"  
>Then her father cries out in fear. Dead? Wounded? Knocked out cold? He groans. Then his voice cuts off.<br>"Fa–" Her mother's hand clamps over her mouth to swallow her shriek, but it's too late.  
>The metal point of a gaffi sticks crashes their door down. A Sand Person – what was it the farmers called them, Tusken Raiders? – a Tusken Raider slips inside, weapon raised in a thinly veiled threat.<br>She screams, terrified out of her mind, and tries to run. The Raider catches her by the ankle.  
>"No!" her mother cries. "Not my daughter –"<br>With a furious growl, the Raider raises his gaffi over the little girl's head. She screams again. She stumbles back into the corner of their little house, but there's nowhere to run. The gaffi slices down –  
>– into her mother's back.<br>The moisture farmer's wife gasps.  
>Her daughter looks, and it's the biggest mistake she'll ever make. She'll never forget what this looks like.<br>The gaffi went into her mother's back... and it's coming back out her chest... And her clothes are red, the weapon is red, everything is turning red... Blood, blood, blood on the dry, desert sand...  
>The little girl stares at the Raider, eyes wide with terror. "Please..."<br>The Tusken Raider looks at her for a long minute. Then he lowers his gaffi.  
>"Come."<br>The little girl takes one last look at her dead mother, alone in the blood. Then she follows the Raider away._

**...**

_Seven and a half, and a day. Or has it only been a few hours?  
>Night. The clouds glow pink against Tatooine's twin suns as they sink below the horizon.<br>The Raider fastens chains around her wrists. She looks at her father, the young brave moisture farmer, for reassurance, but his visage is grave and solemn. When the Raider is done chaining his daughter, he moves on to him. Neither of them dare to resist.  
>There are many weapons in this camp.<br>When the Raider leaves, she turns to her father. "Will we be okay, daddy?"  
>He can't look at her. "I don't know," he says.<br>Tears sting her eyes. "Is Danyl okay?"  
>"I don't know."<br>"What do you know, daddy?"  
>Then he doesn't answer.<br>"I'm sorry, Lora," he whispers.  
>She wants to huddle close to him in the hot, sweaty tent, but the chains are too short. She curls into a ball and sleeps on the sand.<br>That night, she dreams of a blue-skinned man with a gun._

**...**

_Seven and a half, and a week. A week of beatings. A week without enough food and water.  
>They come with weapons.<br>It's a _snap-hiss_ and a series of howls and the heat of flames starting near their little tent, but eventually the men find them.  
>Their leader is big and gruff, muscular, with pallid eyes like a lonely reptile's. He leans down beside her, lowering his blaster pistol, and he unchains her wrists. Another man – a man with deep blue skin, bright blue eyes, and tails that come out of his head – a Twi'lek, she remembers – releases her father.<br>Her father only glares at the Twi'lek, and she doesn't know why.  
>They give her food. They give her water. They bandage her scratches and treat her bruises. She even gets a medpac, and only lucky people can afford medpacs.<br>"What's wrong, daddy?"  
>He stares at the clouds. "Slavers," he spits with contempt.<br>Only later does she learn what that means._

**...**

_Almost eight years old now, she's sure of it.  
>The man and the Twi'lek talk about her like she isn't here.<br>The Twi'lek's eyes burn with frustration. "We'll never get a good price for her."  
>"She's young. Healthy." The man shrugs. "Why not?"<br>"Did you look at her skin? Dark. Filthy. She's farm-girl scum."  
>Father used to tell her that her skin was coffee-color. Warm and rich, not filthy. She doesn't like that word. Filthy. Is she filthy?<br>The Twi'lek fingers his blaster. "Why not just kill her now?"  
>"She ought to be worth something, dang it," the man growls.<br>"Fine. We'll try."_

**...**

_Eight years old. Almost.  
>It was a dream.<br>She lost him. They took him away. She couldn't stop them.  
>When she wakes up, she slips outside the slavers' tent and cries.<em>

**...**

_Eight years old.  
>The auction is over very quickly, and it's a lot of screaming from the little girl and a tortured silence from the father as his new owner leads him away to a new life. But then he finds his voice, calls out over the din.<br>"Remember who you are."  
>And then he vanishes into the crowd.<em>

**...  
><strong>

_Eight years old.  
>Next auction, they notice her.<br>"Sold! To Saul Kyron."  
>The Rodian auctioneer motions to her, but she doesn't understand.<br>"Go on!" he instructs in his nasally monotone. "Go on!"  
>The Twi'lek shoves her down the stairs, and a man catches her at the bottom.<br>He has stern grey eyes, a hard face, broad shoulders, callous hands, thick limbs, and a strange mixture of cloth and armor for clothes.  
>Her head reels. "You bought me?"<br>He nods.  
>"You... own me?"<br>Another nod.  
>"I'm a slave."<br>He grips her shoulder like he might have gripped the collar of a dog. "First name?"  
>Her mouth feels like it's full of sand. "Lora," she coughs.<br>"Last name?"  
>She swallows. "Kii."<br>"Age?"  
>"Eight."<br>He smiles, but there is no compassion in it. "My friends call me Saul."  
>"Hello, Saul."<br>His voice drops an octave. "Be careful with your words. You will call me Master."  
>"Master..." she tries again.<br>"That's better. Now come along, slave girl."  
>Her eyes burn indignantly. She crosses her arms. "My name is Lora."<br>"Your name is irrelevant," he snarls, and he seizes her arm so tightly, it hurts. "Now come along before I regret wasting my credits on a farm girl."  
>She wants to protest, but her arm is already certain to be black-and-blue, and she decides that she really doesn't want to see Saul when he's angry.<br>No, not Saul, she corrects herself. Master. Get used to it. He's your master. You're a slave.  
>Her cheeks burn, but a small voice nudges her mind.<br>Remember who you are._

**...**

_Eight years old.  
>She tried to run. Once.<br>"Did you think you could get away, little girl? Now, let's see what happens when you try a stunt like that."  
><em>Snap-hiss_. Snap. Snap.  
>That was the day she learned what blasterfire felt like.<br>She could barely feel her left shoulder for days, but she did whatever Saul instructed. Wouldn't want to get killed, little girl. Wouldn't want to find out how blasterfire through the heart feels. Wouldn't want to get hurt, would you, little girl?_

**...  
><strong>

_Eight years old. And a half.  
>She just wanted to know how it worked. She didn't mean to shoot out a window with his blaster pistol.<br>His hand smacks her face so hard, his knuckles are wet with crimson when he pulls away. She can't help it. She cries out. Again, his fist swings in – a sharp crack that shoots through her cheekbones. She winces. Blood stains her dry, cracked lips.  
>He grips her jaw between his fingers, forces her face up so that they're eye-to-eye.<br>"Do you understand me? You do as I say. You do as you're told. Or believe me, girl, there are much worse things I could do to you. Are we clear?"  
>Her eyes glisten with tears. "I-I-I'm... sorry..."<br>He leans in closer, his face inches from hers, and his eyes look almost black. His breath smells like tough meat. "I said," he growls, "are we clear?"  
>She nods stiffly. "Yes."<br>His grip on her jaw tightens.  
>"Y-Yes... Master."<br>He smiles, releasing his hold on her. She instinctively stumbles away, one hand raised to protect her face, but no further blows come.  
>"Good," he says.<em>

_**...**_

_Eight years old. And a half.  
>She dreams of a blaster, of red-hot bolts ripping through the cool, night air.<em>

_**...**_

_Eight years old. And three quarters, she thinks. She's not entirely sure.  
>He leads her outside by the hand. For a moment, she thinks he must never have found out about the food she stole – she was starving, she had to – but when she pauses, uncertain, he seizes her arm and swears at her, and then she knows she's in trouble.<br>"Back up." He shoves her hard, and she stumbles in the shifting sand. "Further. A few more yards."  
>She slowly makes a space between them, her warm brown eyes wide and uncertain.<br>Saul nods his approval. "Now, I see you think you can trick me. You think you're stronger than me. Well, let's see how you fare."  
>Cold disbelief shudders through her as he nonchalantly raises his blaster pistol. He pulls the trigger. A burning <em>snap-hiss_ sounds off, and blasterfire rockets at her head.  
>She screams, staggering on the uneven sand. The bolts barely miss. Her hair smells like it's burning.<br>_Snap-hiss.  
><em>She hits the ground face-first. Just manages to evade the shots. Sand fills her mouth and nose, and she coughs fiercely. She can't breathe.<br>Snap. Snap. Snap.  
>This time she screams.<br>When it's over, he puts the pistol back in its holster at his hip. Then he all but drags her back to the house, swearing all the way. "Walk, girl!"  
>But her leg burns where one of the bolts broke the skin, and it's all she can do not to cry.<em>

**...**

_Nine years old. Almost.  
>When she dreams that night, she dreams that he doesn't come back.<em>

**…**

Sleep for a Jedi is often unpleasant. When Master Lora Kii awoke, it was all she could do not to scream.

**…**

**A/N: **Lora Kii is actually named after myself, (my real name is Laura,) so treating her like this isn't exactly on my list of Top 10 Fun Things to Do. I really feel bad for her, but such is the story. It ran away from me.

I'm having a blast revealing more of Lora's backstory, though. I've had the gist of it written since last summer, or at least summarized in my writing notebook. Only now did it become full-blown narrative. Expect another dream sequence with more flashbacks in a later chapter.

Not counting this chapter or A/Ns, WIB has reached 246 pages in my backup copy. Holy. Crap. I didn't even know that was possible. I'm totally in shock. When I searched the document, there were over 500 quotation marks (") alone. Yikes.

Now, on to some more technical things:

**ANNOUNCEMENTS –**

**I noticed in reading the intro to one of my reviewers, Matt Guthrie's, OC fic that he warned people not to copy his characters. I probably should have mentioned that a while ago, but here's the belated statement. Don't steal my characters. I'm not saying that you would (I love you guys and I doubt it) but I just thought I should clear that up.**

**On the other hand, if for some wild reason (and I highly doubt this would happen in a million years) you actually WANT to write something about my characters, I wouldn't prevent it. Do as you please, but the fic has to go through me. "Offshoot of Why I Breathe by Shadows of a Dream" would have to go in the summary of the fic and in an author's note at the end. My story would need to receive credit for any OCs used from it, and expect a review from me detailing whether you have the OCs IC in my offshoot of the SW universe. I'd be honored if someone wanted to write about my characters, although I doubt that would ever actually happen.**

**Also, it saddens me that I have so few images of my characters. If any of you happen to be artists, and you ever want to draw my OCs, be my guest. Just link to my fic in the description of the image, and tell me if/when you post it. Again, I doubt that would ever happen, but it would be crazy cool so you have my permission IF you follow these guidelines I've explained.**

**Also, I created a wiki for this fic on the Star Wars fanon wiki, officially. There's some additional content on the bottom of that article regarding the potential sequel if anyone wants to check it out. Just search Why I Breathe on the fanon wiki if you're interested.**

**Finally… *deep breath* Yikes, this author's note is long.**

**Thanks a million times to my amazing reviewers! I love you all! *HUGGLEGLOMPS* And, er, please review again. Not that I'm checking for reviews every five minutes or anything, you know. XD**


End file.
